The Talisman

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Thus passed two hours of the knight's watch without anything
remarkable occurring. At length, and upon a sudden, the gallant
staghound bayed furiously, and seemed about to dash forward where
the shadow lay the darkest, yet waited, as if in the slips, till
he should know the pleasure of his master.

"Who goes there?" said Sir Kenneth, aware that there was
something creeping forward on the shadowy side of the mount.

"In the name of Merlin and Maugis," answered a hoarse,
disagreeable voice, "tie up your fourfooted demon there, or I
come not at you."

"And who art thou that would approach my post?" said Sir
Kenneth, bending his eyes as keenly as he could on some object,
which he could just observe at the bottom of the ascent, without
being able to distinguish its form. "Beware--I am here for death
and life."

"Take up thy long-fanged Sathanas," said the voice, "or I will
conjure him with a bolt from my arblast."

At the same time was heard the sound of a spring or check, as
when a crossbow is bent.

"Unbend thy arblast, and come into the moonlight," said the Scot,
"or, by Saint Andrew, I will pin thee to the earth, be what or
whom thou wilt!"

As he spoke he poised his long lance by the middle, and, fixing
his eye upon the object, which seemed to move, he brandished the
weapon, as if meditating to cast it from his hand--a use of the
weapon sometimes, though rarely, resorted to when a missile was
necessary. But Sir Kenneth was ashamed of his purpose, and
grounded his weapon, when there stepped from the shadow into the
moonlight, like an actor entering upon the stage, a stunted,
decrepit creature, whom, by his fantastic dress and deformity, he
recognized, even at some distance, for the male of the two dwarfs
whom he had seen in the chapel at Engaddi. Recollecting, at the
same moment, the other and far different visions of that
extraordinary night, he gave his dog a signal, which he instantly
understood, and, returning to the standard, laid himself down
beside it with a stifled growl.

The little, distorted miniature of humanity, assured of his
safety from an enemy so formidable, came panting up the ascent,
which the shortness of his legs rendered laborious, and, when he
arrived on the platform at the top, shifted to his left hand the
little crossbow, which was just such a toy as children at that
period were permitted to shoot small birds with, and, assuming an
attitude of great dignity, gracefully extended his right hand to
Sir Kenneth, in an attitude as if he expected he would salute it.
But such a result not following, he demanded, in a sharp and
angry tone of voice, "Soldier, wherefore renderest thou not to
Nectabanus the homage due to his dignity? Or is it possible that
thou canst have forgotten him?"

"Great Nectabanus," answered the knight, willing to soothe the
creature's humour, "that were difficult for any one who has ever
looked upon thee. Pardon me, however, that, being a soldier upon
my post, with my lance in my hand, I may not give to one of thy
puissance the advantage of coming within my guard, or of
mastering my weapon. Suffice it that I reverence thy dignity,
and submit myself to thee as humbly as a man-at-arms in my place
may."

"It shall suffice," said Nectabanus, "so that you presently
attend me to the presence of those who have sent me hither to
summon you."

"Great sir," replied the knight, "neither in this can I gratify
thee, for my orders are to abide by this banner till daybreak
--so I pray you to hold me excused in that matter also."

So saying, he resumed his walk upon the platform; but the dwarf
did not suffer him so easily to escape from his importunity.

"Look you," he said, placing himself before Sir Kenneth, so as to
interrupt his way, "either obey me, Sir Knight, as in duty bound,
or I will lay the command upon thee, in the name of one whose
beauty could call down the genii from their sphere, and whose
grandeur could command the immortal race when they had
descended."

A wild and improbable conjecture arose in the knight's mind, but
he repelled it. It was impossible, he thought, that the lady of
his love should have sent him such a message by such a messenger;
yet his voice trembled as he said, "Go to, Nectabanus. Tell me
at once, and as a true man, whether this sublime lady of whom
thou speakest be other than the houri with whose assistance I
beheld thee sweeping the chapel at Engaddi?"

"How! presumptuous Knight," replied the dwarf, "think'st thou
the mistress of our own royal affections, the sharer of our
greatness, and the partner of our comeliness, would demean
herself by laying charge on such a vassal as thou? No; highly as
thou art honoured, thou hast not yet deserved the notice of Queen
Guenevra, the lovely bride of Arthur, from whose high seat even
princes seem but pigmies. But look thou here, and as thou
knowest or disownest this token, so obey or refuse her commands
who hath deigned to impose them on thee."

So saying, he placed in the knight's hand a ruby ring, which,
even in the moonlight, he had no difficulty to recognize as that
which usually graced the finger of the high-born lady to whose
service he had devoted himself. Could he have doubted the truth
of the token, he would have been convinced by the small knot of
carnation-coloured ribbon which was fastened to the ring. This
was his lady's favourite colour, and more than once had he
himself, assuming it for that of his own liveries, caused the
carnation to triumph over all other hues in the lists and in the
battle.

Sir Kenneth was struck nearly mute by seeing such a token in such
hands.

"In the name of all that is sacred, from whom didst thou receive
this witness?" said the knight. "Bring, if thou canst, thy
wavering understanding to a right settlement for a minute or two,
and tell me the person by whom thou art sent, and the real
purpose of thy message, and take heed what thou sayest, for this
is no subject for buffoonery."

"Fond and foolish Knight," said the dwarf, "wouldst thou know
more of this matter than that thou art honoured with commands
from a princess, delivered to thee by a king? We list not to
parley with thee further than to command thee, in the name and by
the power of that ring, to follow us to her who is the owner of
the ring. Every minute that thou tarriest is a crime against thy
allegiance."

"Good Nectabanus, bethink thyself," said the knight. "Can my
lady know where and upon what duty I am this night engaged? Is
she aware that my life--pshaw, why should I speak of life--but
that my honour depends on my guarding this banner till daybreak;
and can it be her wish that I should leave it even to pay homage
to her? It is impossible--the princess is pleased to be merry
with her servant in sending him such a message; and I must think
so the rather that she hath chosen such a messenger."

"Oh, keep your belief," said Nectabanus, turning round as if to
leave the platform; "it is little to me whether you be traitor or
true man to this royal lady--so fare thee well."

"Stay, stay--I entreat you stay," said Sir Kenneth. "Answer me
but one question: is the lady who sent thee near to this place?"

"What signifies it?" said the dwarf. "Ought fidelity to reckon
furlongs, or miles, or leagues--like the poor courier, who is
paid for his labour by the distance which he traverses?
Nevertheless, thou soul of suspicion, I tell thee, the fair owner
of the ring now sent to so unworthy a vassal, in whom there is
neither truth nor courage, is not more distant from this place
than this arblast can send a bolt."

The knight gazed again on that ring, as if to ascertain that
there was no possible falsehood in the token. "Tell me," he said
to the dwarf, "is my presence required for any length of time?"

"Time!" answered Nectabanus, in his flighty manner; "what call
you time? I see it not--I feel it not--it is but a shadowy name
--a succession of breathings measured forth by night by the clank
of a bell, by day by a shadow crossing along a dial-stone.
Knowest thou not a true knight's time should only be reckoned by
the deeds that he performs in behalf of God and his lady?"

"The words of truth, though in the mouth of folly," said the
knight. "And doth my lady really summon me to some deed of
action, in her name and for her sake?--and may it not be
postponed for even the few hours till daybreak?"

"She requires thy presence instantly," said the dwarf, "and
without the loss of so much time as would be told by ten grains
of the sandglass. Hearken, thou cold-blooded and suspicious
knight, these are her very words--Tell him that the hand which
dropped roses can bestow laurels."

This allusion to their meeting in the chapel of Engaddi sent a
thousand recollections through Sir Kenneth's brain, and convinced
him that the message delivered by the dwarf was genuine. The
rosebuds, withered as they were, were still treasured under his
cuirass, and nearest to his heart. He paused, and could not
resolve to forego an opportunity, the only one which might ever
offer, to gain grace in her eyes whom he had installed as
sovereign of his affections. The dwarf, in the meantime,
augmented his confusion by insisting either that he must return
the ring or instantly attend him.

"Hold, hold, yet a moment hold," said the knight, and proceeded
to mutter to himself, "Am I either the subject or slave of King
Richard, more than as a free knight sworn to the service of the
Crusade? And whom have I come hither to honour with lance and
sword? Our holy cause and my transcendent lady!"

"The ring! the ring!" exclaimed the dwarf impatiently; "false
and slothful knight, return the ring, which thou art unworthy to
touch or to look upon."

"A moment, a moment, good Nectabanus," said Sir Kenneth; "disturb
not my thoughts.--What if the Saracens were just now to attack
our lines? Should I stay here like a sworn vassal of England,
watching that her king's pride suffered no humiliation; or should
I speed to the breach, and fight for the Cross? To the breach,
assuredly; and next to the cause of God come the commands of my
liege lady. And yet, Coeur de Lion's behest--my own promise!
Nectabanus, I conjure thee once more to say, are you to conduct
me far from hence?"

"But to yonder pavilion; and, since you must needs know," replied
Nectabanus, "the moon is glimmering on the gilded ball which
crowns its roof, and which is worth a king's ransom."

"I can return in an instant," said the knight, shutting his eyes
desperately to all further consequences, "I can hear from thence
the bay of my dog if any one approaches the standard. I will
throw myself at my lady's feet, and pray her leave to return to
conclude my watch.--Here, Roswal" (calling his hound, and
throwing down his mantle by the side of the standard-spear),
"watch thou here, and let no one approach."

The majestic dog looked in his master's face, as if to be sure
that he understood his charge, then sat down beside the mantle,
with ears erect and head raised, like a sentinel, understanding
perfectly the purpose for which he was stationed there.

"Come now, good Nectabanus," said the knight, "let us hasten to
obey the commands thou hast brought."

"Haste he that will," said the dwarf sullenly; "thou hast not
been in haste to obey my summons, nor can I walk fast enough to
follow your long strides--you do not walk like a man, but bound
like an ostrich in the desert."

There were but two ways of conquering the obstinacy of
Nectabanus, who, as he spoke, diminished his walk into a snail's
pace. For bribes Sir Kenneth had no means--for soothing no time;
so in his impatience he snatched the dwarf up from the ground,
and bearing him along, notwithstanding his entreaties and his
fear, reached nearly to the pavilion pointed out as that of the
Queen. In approaching it, however, the Scot observed there was a
small guard of soldiers sitting on the ground, who had been
concealed from him by the intervening tents. Wondering that the
clash of his own armour had not yet attracted their attention,
and supposing that his motions might, on the present occasion,
require to be conducted with secrecy, he placed the little
panting guide upon the ground to recover his breath, and point
out what was next to be done. Nectabanus was both frightened and
angry; but he had felt himself as completely in the power of the
robust knight as an owl in the claws of an eagle, and therefore
cared not to provoke him to any further display of his strength.

He made no complaints, therefore, of the usage he had received;
but, turning amongst the labyrinth of tents, he led the knight in
silence to the opposite side of the pavilion, which thus screened
them from the observation of the warders, who seemed either too
negligent or too sleepy to discharge their duty with much
accuracy. Arrived there, the dwarf raised the under part of the
canvas from the ground, and made signs to Sir Kenneth that he
should introduce himself to the inside of the tent, by creeping
under it. The knight hesitated. There seemed an indecorum in
thus privately introducing himself into a pavilion pitched,
doubtless, for the accommodation of noble ladies; but he recalled
to remembrance the assured tokens which the dwarf had exhibited,
and concluded that it was not for him to dispute his lady's
pleasure.

He stooped accordingly, crept beneath the canvas enclosure of the
tent, and heard the dwarf whisper from without, "Remain here
until I call thee."

CHAPTER XIII.

You talk of Gaiety and Innocence!
The moment when the fatal fruit was eaten,
They parted ne'er to meet again; and Malice
Has ever since been playmate to light Gaiety,
From the first moment when the smiling infant
Destroys the flower or butterfly he toys with,
To the last chuckle of the dying miser,
Who on his deathbed laughs his last to hear
His wealthy neighbour has become a bankrupt. OLD PLAY.

Sir Kenneth was left for some minutes alone and in darkness.
Here was another interruption which must prolong his absence from
his post, and he began almost to repent the facility with which
he had been induced to quit it. But to return without seeing the
Lady Edith was now not to be thought of. He had committed a
breach of military discipline, and was determined at least to
prove the reality of the seductive expectations which had tempted
him to do so. Meanwhile his situation was unpleasant. There was
no light to show him into what sort of apartment he had been led
--the Lady Edith was in immediate attendance on the Queen of
England--and the discovery of his having introduced himself thus
furtively into the royal pavilion might, were it discovered; lead
to much and dangerous suspicion. While he gave way to these
unpleasant reflections, and began almost to wish that he could
achieve his retreat unobserved, he heard a noise of female
voices, laughing, whispering, and speaking, in an adjoining
apartment, from which, as the sounds gave him reason to judge, he
could only be separated by a canvas partition. Lamps were
burning, as he might perceive by the shadowy light which extended
itself even to his side of the veil which divided the tent, and
he could see shades of several figures sitting and moving in the
adjoining apartment. It cannot be termed discourtesy in Sir
Kenneth that, situated as he was, he overheard a conversation in
which he found himself deeply interested.

"Call her--call her, for Our Lady's sake," said the voice of one
of these laughing invisibles. "Nectabanus, thou shalt be made
ambassador to Prester John's court, to show them how wisely thou
canst discharge thee of a mission."

The shrill tone of the dwarf was heard, yet so much subdued that
Sir Kenneth could not understand what he said, except that he
spoke something of the means of merriment given to the guard.

"But how shall we rid us of the spirit which Nectabanus hath
raised, my maidens?"

"Hear me, royal madam," said another voice. "If the sage and
princely Nectabanus be not over-jealous of his most transcendent
bride and empress, let us send her to get us rid of this insolent
knight-errant, who can be so easily persuaded that high-born
dames may need the use of his insolent and overweening valour."

"It were but justice, methinks," replied another, "that the
Princess Guenever should dismiss, by her courtesy, him whom her
husband's wisdom has been able to entice hither."

Struck to the heart with shame and resentment at what he had
heard, Sir Kenneth was about to attempt his escape from the tent
at all hazards, when what followed arrested his purpose.

"Nay, truly," said the first speaker, "our cousin Edith must
first learn how this vaunted wight hath conducted himself, and we
must reserve the power of giving her ocular proof that he hath
failed in his duty. It may be a lesson will do good upon her;
for, credit me, Calista, I have sometimes thought she has let
this Northern adventurer sit nearer her heart than prudence would
sanction."

One of the other voices was then heard to mutter something of the
Lady Edith's prudence and wisdom.

"Prudence, wench!" was the reply. "It is mere pride, and the
desire to be thought more rigid than any of us. Nay, I will not
quit my advantage. You know well that when she has us at fault
no one can, in a civil way, lay your error before you more
precisely than can my Lady Edith. But here she comes."

A figure, as if entering the apartment, cast upon the partition a
shade, which glided along slowly until it mixed with those which
already clouded it. Despite of the bitter disappointment which
he had experienced--despite the insult and injury with which it
seemed he had been visited by the malice, or, at best, by the
idle humour of Queen Berengaria (for he already concluded that
she who spoke loudest, and in a commanding tone, was the wife of
Richard), the knight felt something so soothing to his feelings
in learning that Edith had been no partner to the fraud practised
on him, and so interesting to his curiosity in the scene which
was about to take place, that, instead of prosecuting his more
prudent purpose of an instant retreat, he looked anxiously, on
the contrary, for some rent or crevice by means of which be might
be made eye as well as ear witness to what was to go forward.

"Surely," said he to himself, "the Queen, who hath been pleased
for an idle frolic to endanger my reputation, and perhaps my
life, cannot complain if I avail myself of the chance which
fortune seems willing to afford me to obtain knowledge of her
further intentions."

It seemed, in the meanwhile, as if Edith were waiting for the
commands of the Queen, and as if the other were reluctant to
speak for fear of being unable to command her laughter and that
of her companions; for Sir Kenneth could only distinguish a sound
as of suppressed tittering and merriment.

"Your Majesty," said Edith at last, "seems in a merry mood,
though, methinks, the hour of night prompts a sleepy one. I was
well disposed bedward when I had your Majesty's commands to
attend you."

"I will not long delay you, cousin, from your repose," said the
Queen, "though I fear you will sleep less soundly when I tell you
your wager is lost."

"Nay, royal madam," said Edith, "this, surely, is dwelling on a
jest which has rather been worn out, I laid no wager, however it
was your Majesty's pleasure to suppose, or to insist, that I did
so."

"Nay, now, despite our pilgrimage, Satan is strong with you, my
gentle cousin, and prompts thee to leasing. Can you deny that
you gaged your ruby ring against my golden bracelet that yonder
Knight of the Libbard, or how call you him, could not be seduced
from his post?"

"Your Majesty is too great for me to gainsay you," replied Edith,
"but these ladies can, if they will, bear me witness that it was
your Highness who proposed such a wager, and took the ring from
my finger, even while I was declaring that I did not think it
maidenly to gage anything on such a subject."

"Nay, but, my Lady Edith," said another voice, "you must needs
grant, under your favour, that you expressed yourself very
confident of the valour of that same Knight of the Leopard."

"And if I did, minion," said Edith angrily, "is that a good
reason why thou shouldst put in thy word to flatter her Majesty's
humour? I spoke of that knight but as all men speak who have
seen him in the field, and had no more interest in defending than
thou in detracting from him. In a camp, what can women speak of
save soldiers and deeds of arms?"

"The noble Lady Edith," said a third voice, "hath never forgiven
Calista and me, since we told your Majesty that she dropped two
rosebuds in the chapel."

"If your Majesty," said Edith, in a tone which Sir Kenneth could
judge to be that of respectful remonstrance, "have no other
commands for me than to hear the gibes of your waiting-women, I
must crave your permission to withdraw."

"Silence, Florise," said the Queen, "and let not our indulgence
lead you to forget the difference betwixt yourself and the
kinswoman of England.--But you, my dear cousin," she continued,
resuming her tone of raillery, "how can you, who are so good-natured, begrudge us poor wretches a few
minutes' laughing, when
we have had so many days devoted to weeping and gnashing of
teeth?"

"Great be your mirth, royal lady," said Edith; "yet would I be
content not to smile for the rest of my life, rather than--"

She stopped, apparently out of respect; but Sir Kenneth could
hear that she was in much agitation.

"Forgive me," said Berengaria, a thoughtless but good-humoured
princess of the House of Navarre; "but what is the great offence,
after all? A young knight has been wiled hither--has stolen, or
has been stolen, from his post, which no one will disturb in his
absence--for the sake of a fair lady; for, to do your champion
justice, sweet one, the wisdom of Nectabanus could conjure him
hither in no name but yours."

"Gracious Heaven! your Majesty does not say so?" said Edith, in a
voice of alarm quite different from the agitation she had
previously evinced,--"you cannot say so consistently with respect
for your own honour and for mine, your husband's kinswoman! Say
you were jesting with me, my royal mistress, and forgive me that
I could, even for a moment, think it possible you could be in
earnest!"

"The Lady Edith," said the Queen, in a displeased tone of voice,
"regrets the ring we have won of her. We will restore the pledge
to you, gentle cousin; only you must not grudge us in turn a
little triumph over the wisdom which has been so often spread
over us, as a banner over a host."

"A triumph!" exclaimed Edith indignantly--"a triumph! The
triumph will be with the infidel, when he hears that the Queen of
England can make the reputation of her husband's kinswoman the
subject of a light frolic."

"You are angry, fair cousin, at losing your favourite ring," said
the Queen. "Come, since you grudge to pay your wager, we will
renounce our right; it was your name and that pledge brought him
hither, and we care not for the bait after the fish is caught."

"Madam," replied Edith impatiently, "you know well that your
Grace could not wish for anything of mine but it becomes
instantly yours. But I would give a bushel of rubies ere ring or
name of mine had been used to bring a brave man into a fault, and
perhaps to disgrace and punishment."

"Oh, it is for the safety of our true knight that we fear!" said
the Queen. "You rate our power too low, fair cousin, when you
speak of a life being lost for a frolic of ours. O Lady Edith,
others have influence on the iron breasts of warriors as well as
you--the heart even of a lion is made of flesh, not of stone;
and, believe me, I have interest enough with Richard to save this
knight, in whose fate Lady Edith is so deeply concerned, from the
penalty of disobeying his royal commands."

"For the love of the blessed Cross, most royal lady," said Edith
--and Sir Kenneth, with feelings which it were hard to unravel,
heard her prostrate herself at the Queen's feet--"for the love of
our blessed Lady, and of every holy saint in the calendar, beware
what you do! You know not King Richard--you have been but shortly
wedded to him. Your breath might as well combat the west wind
when it is wildest, as your words persuade my royal kinsman to
pardon a military offence. Oh, for God's sake, dismiss this
gentleman, if indeed you have lured him hither! I could almost be
content to rest with the shame of having invited him, did I know
that he was returned again where his duty calls him!"

"Arise, cousin, arise," said Queen Berengaria, "and be assured
all will be better than you think. Rise, dear Edith. I am sorry
I have played my foolery with a knight in whom you take such deep
interest. Nay, wring not thy hands; I will believe thou carest
not for him--believe anything rather than see thee look so
wretchedly miserable. I tell thee I will take the blame on
myself with King Richard in behalf of thy fair Northern friend
--thine acquaintance, I would say, since thou own'st him not as a
friend. Nay, look not so reproachfully. We will send Nectabanus
to dismiss this Knight of the Standard to his post; and we
ourselves will grace him on some future day, to make amends for
his wild-goose chase. He is, I warrant, but lying perdu in some
neighbouring tent."

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