The Talisman

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Beside the couch sat on a cushion, also composed of skins, the
Moorish physician of whom Sir Kenneth had spoken, cross-legged,
after the Eastern fashion. The imperfect light showed little of
him, save that the lower part of his face was covered with a
long, black beard, which descended over his breast; that he wore
a high TOLPACH, a Tartar cap of the lamb's wool manufactured at
Astracan, bearing the same dusky colour; and that his ample
caftan, or Turkish robe, was also of a dark hue. Two piercing
eyes, which gleamed with unusual lustre, were the only lineaments
of his visage that could be discerned amid the darkness in which
he was enveloped.

The English lord stood silent with a sort of reverential awe; for
notwithstanding the roughness of his general bearing, a scene of
distress and poverty, firmly endured without complaint or murmur,
would at any time have claimed more reverence from Thomas de Vaux
than would all the splendid formalities of a royal presence-chamber, unless that presence-chamber were
King Richard's own.
Nothing was for a time heard but the heavy and regular breathings
of the invalid, who seemed in profound repose.

"He hath not slept for six nights before," said Sir Kenneth, "as
I am assured by the youth, his attendant."

"Noble Scot," said Thomas de Vaux, grasping the Scottish knight's
hand, with a pressure which had more of cordiality than he
permitted his words to utter, "this gear must be amended. Your
esquire is but too evil fed and looked to."

In the latter part of this speech he naturally raised his voice
to its usual decided tone, The sick man was disturbed in his
slumbers.

"My master," he said, murmuring as in a dream, "noble Sir
Kenneth, taste not, to you as to me, the waters of the Clyde cold
and refreshing after the brackish springs of Palestine?"

"He dreams of his native land, and is happy in his slumbers,"
whispered Sir Kenneth to De Vaux; but had scarce uttered the
words, when the physician, arising from the place which he had
taken near the couch of the sick, and laying the hand of the
patient, whose pulse he had been carefully watching, quietly upon
the couch, came to the two knights, and taking them each by the
arm, while he intimated to them to remain silent, led them to the
front of the hut.

"In the name of Issa Ben Mariam," he said, "whom we honour as
you, though not with the same blinded superstition, disturb not
the effect of the blessed medicine of which he hath partaken. To
awaken him now is death or deprivation of reason; but return at
the hour when the muezzin calls from the minaret to evening
prayer in the mosque, and if left undisturbed until then, I
promise you this same Frankish soldier shall be able, without
prejudice to his health, to hold some brief converse with you on
any matters on which either, and especially his master, may have
to question him."

The knights retreated before the authoritative commands of the
leech, who seemed fully to comprehend the importance of the
Eastern proverb that the sick chamber of the patient is the
kingdom of the physician.

They paused, and remained standing together at the door of the
hut--Sir Kenneth with the air of one who expected his visitor to
say farewell, and De Vaux as if he had something on his mind
which prevented him from doing so. The hound, however, had
pressed out of the tent after them, and now thrust his long,
rough countenance into the hand of his master, as if modestly
soliciting some mark of his kindness. He had no sooner received
the notice which he desired, in the shape of a kind word and
slight caress, than, eager to acknowledge his gratitude and joy
for his master's return, he flew off at full speed, galloping in
full career, and with outstretched tail, here and there, about
and around, cross-ways and endlong, through the decayed huts and
the esplanade we have described, but never transgressing those
precincts which his sagacity knew were protected by his master's
pennon. After a few gambols of this kind, the dog, coming close
up to his master, laid at once aside his frolicsome mood,
relapsed into his usual gravity and slowness of gesture and
deportment, and looked as if he were ashamed that anything should
have moved him to depart so far out of his sober self-control.

Both knights looked on with pleasure; for Sir Kenneth was justly
proud of his noble hound, and the northern English baron was, of
course, an admirer of the chase, and a judge of the animal's
merits.

"A right able dog," he said. "I think, fair sir, King Richard
hath not an ALAN which may match him, if he be as stanch as he is
swift. But let me pray you--speaking in all honour and kindness
--have you not heard the proclamation that no one under the rank
of earl shall keep hunting dogs within King Richard's camp
without the royal license, which, I think, Sir Kenneth, hath not
been issued to you? I speak as Master of the Horse."

"And I answer as a free Scottish knight," said Kenneth sternly.
"For the present I follow the banner of England, but I cannot
remember that I have ever subjected myself to the forest-laws of
that kingdom, nor have I such respect for them as would incline
me to do so. When the trumpet sounds to arms, my foot is in the
stirrup as soon as any--when it clangs for the charge, my lance
has not yet been the last laid in the rest. But for my hours of
liberty or of idleness King Richard has no title to bar my
recreation."

"Nevertheless," said De Vaux, "it is a folly to disobey the
King's ordinance; so, with your good leave, I, as having
authority in that matter, will send you a protection for my
friend here."

"I thank you," said the Scot coldly; "but he knows my allotted
quarters, and within these I can protect him myself.--And yet,"
he said, suddenly changing his manner, "this is but a cold return
for a well-meant kindness. I thank you, my lord, most heartily.
The King's equerries or prickers might find Roswal at
disadvantage, and do him some injury, which I should not,
perhaps, be slow in returning, and so ill might come of it. You
have seen so much of my house-keeping, my lord," he added, with a
smile, "that I need not shame to say that Roswal is our principal
purveyor, and well I hope our Lion Richard will not be like the
lion in the minstrel fable, that went a-hunting, and kept the
whole booty to himself. I cannot think he would grudge a poor
gentleman, who follows him faithfully, his hour of sport and his
morsel of game, more especially when other food is hard enough to
come by."

"By my faith, you do the King no more than justice; and yet,"
said the baron, "there is something in these words, vert and
venison, that turns the very brains of our Norman princes."

"We have heard of late," said the Scot, "by minstrels and
pilgrims, that your outlawed yeomen have formed great bands in
the shires of York and Nottingham, having at their head a most
stout archer, called Robin Hood, with his lieutenant, Little
John. Methinks it were better that Richard relaxed his forest-code in England, than endeavour to enforce it
in the Holy Land."

"Wild work, Sir Kenneth," replied De Vaux, shrugging his
shoulders, as one who would avoid a perilous or unpleasing topic
--"a mad world, sir. I must now bid you adieu, having presently
to return to the King's pavilion. At vespers I will again, with
your leave, visit your quarters, and speak with this same infidel
physician. I would, in the meantime, were it no offence,
willingly send you what would somewhat mend your cheer."

"I thank you, sir," said Sir Kenneth, "but it needs not. Roswal
hath already stocked my larder for two weeks, since the sun of
Palestine, if it brings diseases, serves also to dry venison."

The two warriors parted much better friends than they had met;
but ere they separated, Thomas de Vaux informed himself at more
length of the circumstances attending the mission of the Eastern
physician, and received from the Scottish knight the credentials
which he had brought to King Richard on the part of Saladin.

CHAPTER VIII.

A wise physician, skilled our wounds to heal,
Is more than armies to the common weal. POPE'S ILLIAD.

"This is a strange tale, Sir Thomas," said the sick monarch, when
he had heard the report of the trusty Baron of Gilsland. "Art
thou sure this Scottish man is a tall man and true?"

"I cannot say, my lord," replied the jealous Borderer. "I live a
little too near the Scots to gather much truth among them, having
found them ever fair and false. But this man's bearing is that
of a true man, were he a devil as well as a Scot; that I must
needs say for him in conscience."

"And for his carriage as a knight, how sayest thou, De Vaux?"
demanded the King.

"It is your Majesty's business more than mine to note men's
bearings; and I warrant you have noted the manner in which this
man of the Leopard hath borne himself. He hath been full well
spoken of."

"And justly, Thomas," said the King. "We have ourselves
witnessed him. It is indeed our purpose in placing ourselves
ever in the front of battle, to see how our liegemen and
followers acquit themselves, and not from a desire to accumulate
vainglory to ourselves, as some have supposed. We know the
vanity of the praise of man, which is but a vapour, and buckle on
our armour for other purposes than to win it."

De Vaux was alarmed when he heard the King make a declaration so
inconsistent with his nature, and believed at first that nothing
short of the approach of death could have brought him to speak in
depreciating terms of military renown, which was the very breath
of his nostrils. But recollecting he had met the royal confessor
in the outer pavilion, he was shrewd enough to place this
temporary self-abasement to the effect of the reverend man's
lesson, and suffered the King to proceed without reply.

"Yes," continued Richard, "I have indeed marked the manner in
which this knight does his devoir. My leading-staff were not
worth a fool's bauble had he escaped my notice; and he had ere
now tasted of our bounty, but that I have also marked his
overweening and audacious presumption."

"My liege," said the Baron of Gilsland, observing the King's
countenance change, "I fear I have transgressed your pleasure in
lending some countenance to his transgression."

"How, De Multon,
thou?" said the King, contracting his brows, and speaking in a
tone of angry surprise. "Thou countenance his insolence? It
cannot be."

"Nay, your Majesty will pardon me to remind you that I have by
mine office right to grant liberty to men of gentle blood to keep
them a hound or two within camp, just to cherish the noble art of
venerie ; and besides, it were a sin to have maimed or harmed a
thing so noble as this gentleman's dog."

"Has he, then, a dog so handsome?" said the King.

"A most perfect creature of Heaven," said the baron, who was an
enthusiast in field-sports--"of the noblest Northern breed--deep
in the chest, strong in the stern--black colour, and brindled on
the breast and legs, not spotted with white, but just shaded into
grey--strength to pull down a bull, swiftness to cote an
antelope."

The King laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well, thou hast given him
leave to keep the hound, so there is an end of it. Be not,
however, liberal of your licenses among those knights adventurers
who have no prince or leader to depend upon; they are
ungovernable, and leave no game in Palestine.--But to this piece
of learned heathenesse--sayest thou the Scot met him in the
desert?"

"No, my liege; the Scot's tale runs thus. He was dispatched to
the old hermit of Engaddi, of whom men talk so much--"

"'Sdeath and hell!" said Richard, starting up. "By whom
dispatched, and for what? Who dared send any one thither, when
our Queen was in the Convent of Engaddi, upon her pilgrimage for
our recovery?"

"The Council of the Crusade sent him, my lord," answered the
Baron de Vaux; "for what purpose, he declined to account to me.
I think it is scarce known in the camp that your royal consort is
on a pilgrimage; and even the princes may not have been aware, as
the Queen has been sequestered from company since your love
prohibited her attendance in case of infection."

"Well, it shall be looked into," said Richard. "So this Scottish
man, this envoy, met with a wandering physician at the grotto of
Engaddi--ha?"

"Not so my liege," replied De Vaux? "but he met, I think, near
that place, with a Saracen Emir with whom he had some MELEE in
the way of proof of valour, and finding him worthy to bear brave
men company, they went together, as errant knights are wont, to
the grotto of Engaddi."

Here De Vaux stopped, for he was not one of those who can tell a
long story in a sentence.

"And did they there meet the physician?" demanded the King
impatiently.

"No, my liege," replied De Vaux; "but the Saracen, learning your
Majesty's grievous illness, undertook that Saladin should send
his own physician to you, and with many assurances of his eminent
skill; and he came to the grotto accordingly, after the Scottish
knight had tarried a day for him and more. He is attended as if
he were a prince, with drums and atabals, and servants on horse
and foot, and brings with him letters of credence from Saladin."

"Have they been examined by Giacomo Loredani?"

"I showed them to the interpreter ere bringing them hither, and
behold their contents in English."

Richard took a scroll, in which were inscribed these words: The
blessing of Allah and his Prophet Mohammed ["Out upon the hound!"
said Richard, spitting in contempt, by way of interjection],
Saladin, king of kings, Saldan of Egypt and of Syria, the light
and refuge of the earth, to the great Melech Ric, Richard of
England, greeting. Whereas, we have been informed that the hand
of sickness hath been heavy upon thee, our royal brother, and
that thou hast with thee only such Nazarene and Jewish mediciners
as work without the blessing of Allah and our holy Prophet
["Confusion on his head!" again muttered the English monarch],
we have therefore sent to tend and wait upon thee at this time
the physician to our own person, Adonbec el Hakim, before whose
face the angel Azrael [The Angel of Death.] spreads his wings and
departs from the sick chamber; who knows the virtues of herbs and
stones, the path of the sun, moon, and stars, and can save man
from all that is not written on his forehead. And this we do,
praying you heartily to honour and make use of his skill; not
only that we may do service to thy worth and valour, which is the
glory of all the nations of Frangistan, but that we may bring the
controversy which is at present between us to an end, either by
honourable agreement, or by open trial thereof with our weapons,
in a fair field--seeing that it neither becomes thy place and
courage to die the death of a slave who hath been overwrought by
his taskmaster, nor befits it our fame that a brave adversary be
snatched from our weapon by such a disease. And, therefore, may
the holy--"

"Hold, hold," said Richard, " I will have no more of his dog of a
prophet! It makes me sick to think the valiant and worthy Soldan
should believe in a dead dog. Yes, I will see his physician. I
will put myself into the charge of this Hakim--I will repay the
noble Soldan his generosity--I will meet Saladin in the field, as
he so worthily proposes, and he shall have no cause to term
Richard of England ungrateful. I will strike him to the earth
with my battle-axe--I will convert him to Holy Church with such
blows as he has rarely endured. He shall recant his errors
before my good cross-handled sword, and I will have him baptized
on the battle-field, from my own helmet, though the cleansing
waters were mixed with the blood of us both.--Haste, De Vaux, why
dost thou delay a conclusion so pleasing? Fetch the Hakim
hither."

"My lord," said the baron, who perhaps saw some accession of
fever in this overflow of confidence, "bethink you, the Soldan is
a pagan, and that you are his most formidable enemy--"

"For which reason he is the more bound to do me service in this
matter, lest a paltry fever end the quarrel betwixt two such
kings. I tell thee he loves me as I love him--as noble
adversaries ever love each other. By my honour, it were sin to
doubt his good faith!"

"Nevertheless, my lord, it were well to wait the issue of these
medicines upon the Scottish squire," said the Lord of Gilsland.
"My own life depends upon it, for worthy were I to die like a dog
did I proceed rashly in this matter, and make shipwreck of the
weal of Christendom."

"I never knew thee before hesitate for fear of life," said
Richard upbraidingly.

"Nor would I now, my liege," replied the stout-hearted baron,
"save that yours lies at pledge as well as my own."

"Well, thou suspicious mortal," answered Richard, "begone then,
and watch the progress of this remedy. I could almost wish it
might either cure or kill me, for I am weary of lying here like
an ox dying of the murrain, when tambours are beating, horses
stamping, and trumpets sounding without."

The baron hastily departed, resolved, however, to communicate his
errand to some churchman, as he felt something burdened in
conscience at the idea of his master being attended by an
unbeliever.

The Archbishop of Tyre was the first to whom he confided his
doubts, knowing his interest with his master, Richard, who both
loved and honoured that sagacious prelate. The bishop heard the
doubts which De Vaux stated, with that acuteness of intelligence
which distinguishes the Roman Catholic clergy. The religious
scruples of De Vaux he treated with as much lightness as
propriety permitted him to exhibit on such a subject to a layman.

"Mediciners," he said, "like the medicines which they employed,
were often useful, though the one were by birth or manners the
vilest of humanity, as the others are, in many cases, extracted
from the basest materials. Men may use the assistance of pagans
and infidels," he continued, "in their need, and there is reason
to think that one cause of their being permitted to remain on
earth is that they might minister to the convenience of true
Christians. Thus we lawfully make slaves of heathen captives.
Again," proceeded the prelate, "there is no doubt that the
primitive Christians used the services of the unconverted
heathen. Thus in the ship of Alexandria, in which the blessed
Apostle Paul sailed to Italy, the sailors were doubtless pagans;
yet what said the holy saint when their ministry was needful?
--'NISI HI IN NAVI MANSERINT, VOS SALVI FIERI NON POTESTIS'--
Unless these men abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved. Again,
Jews are infidels to Christianity, as well as Mohammedans. But
there are few physicians in the camp excepting Jews, and such are
employed without scandal or scruple. Therefore, Mohammedans may
be used for their service in that capacity--QUOD ERAT
DEMONSTRANDUM."

This reasoning entirely removed the scruples of Thomas de Vaux,
who was particularly moved by the Latin quotation, as he did not
understand a word of it.

But the bishop proceeded with far less fluency when he considered
the possibility of the Saracen's acting with bad faith; and here
he came not to a speedy decision. The baron showed him the
letters of credence. He read and re-read them, and compared the
original with the translation.

"It is a dish choicely cooked," he said, "to the palate of King
Richard, and I cannot but have my suspicions of the wily Saracen.
They are curious in the art of poisons, and can so temper them
that they shall be weeks in acting upon the party, during which
time the perpetrator has leisure to escape. They can impregnate
cloth and leather, nay, even paper and parchment, with the most
subtle venom. Our Lady forgive me! And wherefore, knowing this,
hold I these letters of credence so close to my face? Take them,
Sir Thomas--take them speedily!"

Here he gave them at arm's-length, and with some appearance of
haste, to the baron. "But come, my Lord de Vaux," he continued,
"wend we to the tent of this sick squire, where we shall learn
whether this Hakim hath really the art of curing which he
professeth, ere we consider whether there be safety in permitting
him to exercise his art upon King Richard.--Yet, hold! let me
first take my pouncet-box, for these fevers spread like an
infection. I would advise you to use dried rosemary steeped in
vinegar, my lord. I, too, know something of the healing art."

"I thank your reverend lordship," replied Thomas of Gilsland;
"but had I been accessible to the fever, I had caught it long
since by the bed of my master."

The Bishop of Tyre blushed, for he had rather avoided the
presence of the sick monarch; and he bid the baron lead on.

As they paused before the wretched hut in which Kenneth of the
Leopard and his follower abode, the bishop said to De Vaux, "Now,
of a surety, my lord, these Scottish Knights have worse care of
their followers than we of our dogs. Here is a knight, valiant,
they say, in battle, and thought fitting to be graced with
charges of weight in time of truce, whose esquire of the body is
lodged worse than in the worst dog-kennel in England. What say
you of your neighbours?"

"That a master doth well enough for his servant when he lodgeth
him in no worse dwelling than his own," said De Vaux, and entered
the hut.

The bishop followed, not without evident reluctance; for though
he lacked not courage in some respects, yet it was tempered with
a strong and lively regard for his own safety. He recollected,
however, the necessity there was for judging personally of the
skill of the Arabian physician, and entered the hut with a
stateliness of manner calculated, as he thought, to impose
respect on the stranger.

The prelate was, indeed, a striking and commanding figure. In
his youth he had been eminently handsome, and even in age was
unwilling to appear less so. His episcopal dress was of the
richest fashion, trimmed with costly fur, and surrounded by a
cope of curious needlework. The rings on his fingers were worth
a goodly barony, and the hood which he wore, though now unclasped
and thrown back for heat, had studs of pure gold to fasten it
around his throat and under his chin when he so inclined. His
long beard, now silvered with age, descended over his breast.
One of two youthful acolytes who attended him created an
artificial shade, peculiar then to the East, by bearing over his
head an umbrella of palmetto leaves, while the other refreshed
his reverend master by agitating a fan of peacock-feathers.

When the Bishop of Tyre entered the hut of the Scottish knight,
the master was absent, and the Moorish physician, whom he had
come to see, sat in the very posture in which De Vaux had left
him several hours before, cross-legged upon a mat made of twisted
leaves, by the side of the patient, who appeared in deep slumber,
and whose pulse he felt from time to time. The bishop remained
standing before him in silence for two or three minutes, as if
expecting some honourable salutation, or at least that the
Saracen would seem struck with the dignity of his appearance.
But Adonbec el Hakim took no notice of him beyond a passing
glance, and when the prelate at length saluted him in the lingua
franca current in the country, he only replied by the ordinary
Oriental greeting, "SALAM ALICUM--Peace be with you."

"Art thou a physician, infidel?" said the bishop, somewhat
mortified at this cold reception. "I would speak with thee on
that art."

"If thou knewest aught of medicine," answered El Hakim, "thou
wouldst be aware that physicians hold no counsel or debate in the
sick chamber of their patient. Hear," he added, as the low
growling of the staghound was heard from the inner hut, "even the
dog might teach thee reason, Ulemat. His instinct teaches him to
suppress his barking in the sick man's hearing. Come without the
tent," said he, rising and leading the way, "if thou hast ought
to say with me."

Notwithstanding the plainness of the Saracen leech's dress, and
his inferiority of size when contrasted with the tall prelate and
gigantic English baron, there was something striking in his
manner and countenance, which prevented the Bishop of Tyre from
expressing strongly the displeasure he felt at this unceremonious
rebuke. When without the hut, he gazed upon Adonbec in silence
for several minutes before he could fix on the best manner to
renew the conversation. No locks were seen under the high bonnet
of the Arabian, which hid also part of a brow that seemed lofty
and expanded, smooth, and free from wrinkles, as were his cheeks,
where they were seen under the shade of his long beard. We have
elsewhere noticed the piercing quality of his dark eyes.

The prelate, struck with his apparent youth, at length broke a
pause, which the other seemed in no haste to interrupt, by
demanding of the Arabian how old he was?

"The years of ordinary men," said the Saracen, "are counted by
their wrinkles; those of sages by their studies. I dare not call
myself older than a hundred revolutions of the Hegira." [Meaning
that his attainments were those which might have been made in a
hundred years.]

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