by Walter Scott
CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH.
Strange ape of man! who loathes thee while he scorns thee. Half a reproach to us and half a jest. What fancies can be ours ere we have pleasure In viewing our own form, our pride and passions, Reflected in a shape grotesque as thine! ANONYMOUS.
Count Robert of Paris having ensconced himself behind the ruins of thebed, so that he could not well be observed, unless a strong light wasat once flung upon the place of his retreat, waited with anxiety howand in what manner the warder of the dungeon, charged with the task ofbringing food to the prisoners, should make himself visible; nor was itlong ere symptoms of his approach began to be heard and observed.
A light was partially seen, as from a trap-door opening in the roof,and a voice was heard to utter these words in Anglo-Saxon, "Leap,sirrah; come, no delay; leap, my good Sylvan, show your honour'sactivity." A strange chuckling hoarse voice, in a language totallyunintelligible to Count Robert, was heard to respond, as if disputingthe orders which were received.
"What, sir," said his companion, "you must contest the point, must you?Nay, if thou art so lazy, I must give your honour a ladder, and perhapsa kick to hasten your journey." Something then, of very great size, inthe form of a human being, jumped down from the trap-door, though theheight might be above fourteen feet. This figure was gigantic, beingupwards of seven feet high. In its left hand it held a torch, and inits right a skein of fine silk, which unwinding itself as it descended,remained unbroken, though it was easy to conceive it could not haveafforded a creature so large any support in his descent from the roof.He alighted with perfect safety and activity upon his feet, and, as ifrebounding from the floor, he sprung upwards again, so as almost totouch the roof. In this last gambaud the torch which he bore wasextinguished; but this extraordinary warder whirled it round his headwith infinite velocity, so that it again ignited. The bearer, whoappeared to intend the accomplishment of this object, endeavoured tosatisfy himself that it was really attained by approaching, as ifcautiously, its left hand to the flame of the torch. This practicalexperiment seemed attended with consequences which the creature had notexpected, for it howled with pain, shaking the burnt hand, andchattering as if bemoaning itself.
"Take heed there, Sylvanus!" said the same voice in Anglo-Saxon, and ina tone of rebuke. "Ho, there! mind thy duty, Sylvan! Carry food to theblind man, and stand not there to play thyself, lest I trust thee notagain alone on such an errand!"
The creature--for it would have been rash to have termed it aman--turning its eye upwards to the place from whence the voice came,answered with a dreadful grin and shaking of its fist, yet presentlybegan to undo a parcel, and rummage in the pockets of a sort of jerkinand pantaloons which it wore, seeking, it appeared, a bunch of keys,which at length it produced, while it took from the pocket a loaf ofbread. Heating the stone of the wall, it affixed the torch to it by apiece of wax, and then cautiously looked out for the entrance to theold man's dungeon, which it opened with a key selected from the bunch.Within the passage it seemed to look for and discover the handle of apump, at which it filled a pitcher that it bore, and bringing back thefragments of the former loaf, and remains of the pitcher of water, itate a little, as if it were in sport, and very soon making a frightfulgrimace, flung the fragments away. The Count of Paris, in themeanwhile, watched anxiously the proceedings of this unknown animal.His first thought was, that the creature, whose limbs were so muchlarger than humanity, whose grimaces were so frightful, and whoseactivity seemed supernatural, could be no other than the Devil himself,or some of his imps, whose situation and office in those gloomy regionsseemed by no means hard to conjecture. The human voice, however, whichhe had heard, was less that of a necromancer conjuring a fiend thanthat of a person giving commands to a wild animal, over whom he had, bytraining, obtained a great superiority.
"A shame on it," said the Count, "if I suffer a common jackanapes,--forsuch I take this devil-seeming beast to be, although twice as large asany of its fellows whom I have ever seen,--to throw an obstacle in theway of my obtaining daylight and freedom! Let us but watch, and thechance is that we make that furry gentleman our guide to the upperregions."
Meantime the creature, which rummaged about everywhere, at length.discovered the body of the tiger,--touched it, stirred it, with manystrange motions, and seemed to lament and wonder at its death. At onceit seemed struck with the idea that some one must have slain it, andCount Robert had the mortification to see it once more select the key,and spring towards the door of Ursel's prison with such alacrity, thathad its intention been to strangle him, it would have accomplished itspurpose before the interference of Count Robert could have preventedits revenge taking place. Apparently, however, it reflected, that forreasons which seemed satisfactory, the death of the tiger could not becaused by the unfortunate Ursel, but had been accomplished by some oneconcealed within the outer prison.
Slowly grumbling, therefore, and chattering to itself, and peepinganxiously into every corner, the tremendous creature, so like yet sovery unlike to the human form, came stealing along the walls, movingwhatever he thought could seclude a man from his observation. Itsextended legs and arms were protruded forward with great strides, andits sharp eyes, on the watch to discover the object of its search, keptprying, with the assistance of the torch, into every corner.
Considering the vicinity of Alexius's collection of animals, thereader, by this time, can have little doubt that the creature inquestion, whose appearance seemed to the Count of Paris so veryproblematical, was a specimen of that gigantic species of ape--if it isnot indeed some animal more nearly allied to ourselves--to which, Ibelieve, naturalists have given the name of the Ourang Outang. Thiscreature differs from the rest of its fraternity, in beingcomparatively more docile and serviceable: and though possessing thepower of imitation which is common to the whole race, yet making use ofit less in mere mockery, than in the desire of improvement andinstruction perfectly unknown to his brethren. The aptitude which itpossesses of acquiring information, is surprisingly great, andprobably, if placed in a favourable situation, it might admit of beingdomesticated in a considerable degree; but such advantages the ardourof scientific curiosity has never afforded this creature. The last wehave heard of was seen, we believe, in the Island of Sumatra--it was ofgreat size and strength, and upwards of seven feet high. It dieddefending desperately its innocent life against a party of Europeans,who, we cannot help thinking, might have better employed thesuperiority which their knowledge gave them over the poor native of theforest. It was probably this creature, seldom seen, but when once seennever forgotten, which occasioned the ancient belief in the god Pan,with his sylvans and satyrs. Nay, but for the gift of speech, which wecannot suppose any of the family to have attained, we should havebelieved the satyr seen by St. Anthony in the desert to have belongedto this tribe.
We can, therefore, the more easily credit the annals which attest thatthe collection of natural history belonging to Alexius Comnenus,preserved an animal of this kind, which had been domesticated andreclaimed to a surprising extent, and showed a degree of intelligencenever perhaps to be attained in any other case. These explanationsbeing premised, we return to the thread of our story.
The animal advanced with long noiseless steps; its shadow on the wall,when it held the torch so as to make it visible to the Frank, forminganother fiend-resembling mimicry of its own large figure andextravagant-looking members. Count Robert remained in his lurking hole,in no hurry to begin a strife, of which it was impossible to foretellthe end. In the meantime, the man of the woods came nigh, and everystep by which he approached, caused the Count's heart to vibrate almostaudibly, at the idea of meeting danger of a nature so strange and new.At length the creature approached the bed--his hideous eyes were fixedon those of the Count; and, as much surprised at seeing him as Robertwas at the meeting, he skipped about fifteen paces backwards at onespring, with a cry of instinctive terror, and then advanced on tiptoe,holding his tor
ch as far forward as he could, between him and theobject of his fears, as if to examine him at the safest possibledistance. Count Robert caught up a fragment of the bedstead, largeenough to form a sort of club, with which he menaced the native of thewilds.
Apparently this poor creature's education, like education of mostkinds, had not been acquired without blows, of which the recollectionwas as fresh as that of the lessons which they enforced. Sir Robert ofParis was a man at once to discover and to avail himself of theadvantage obtained by finding that he possessed a degree of ascendancyover his enemy, which he had not suspected. He erected his warlikefigure, assumed a step as if triumphant in the lists, and advancedthreatening his enemy with his club, as he would have menaced hisantagonist with the redoutable Tranchefer. The man of the woods, on theother hand, obviously gave way, and converted his cautious advance intoa retreat no less cautious. Yet apparently the creature had notrenounced some plan of resistance; he chattered in an angry and hostiletone, held out his torch in opposition, and seemed about to strike thecrusader with it. Count Robert, however, determined to take hisopponent at advantage, while his fears influenced him, and for thispurpose resolved, if possible, to deprive him of his naturalsuperiority in strength and agility, which his singular form showed hecould not but possess over the human species. A master of his weapon,therefore, the Count menaced his savage antagonist with a stroke on theright side of his head, but suddenly averting the blow, struck him withhis whole force on the left temple, and in an instant was kneelingabove him, when, drawing his dagger, he was about to deprive him oflife.
The Ourang Outang, ignorant of the nature of this new weapon with whichhe was threatened, attempted at one and the same moment, to rise fromthe ground, overthrow his antagonist, and wrench the dagger from hisgrasp. In the first attempt, he would probably have succeeded; and asit was, he gained his knees, and seemed likely to prevail in thestruggle, when he became sensible that the knight, drawing his poniardsharply through his grasp, had cut his paw severely, and seeing him aimthe trenchant weapon at his throat, became probably aware that hisenemy had his life at command. He suffered himself to be bornebackwards without further resistance, with a deep wailing andmelancholy cry, having in it something human, which excited compassion.He covered his eyes with the unwounded hand, as if he would have hidfrom his own sight the death which seemed approaching him.
Count Robert, notwithstanding his military frenzy, was, in ordinarymatters, a calm-tempered and mild man, and particularly benevolent tothe lower classes of creation. The thought rushed through his mind,"Why take from this unfortunate monster the breath which is in itsnostrils, after which it cannot know another existence? And then, mayit not be some prince or knight changed to this grotesque shape, thatit may help to guard these vaults, and the wonderful adventures thatattach to them? Should I not, then, be guilty of a crime by slayinghim, when he has rendered himself, rescue or no rescue, which he hasdone as completely as his transformed figure permits; and if he beactually a bestial creature, may he not have some touch of gratitude? Ihave heard the minstrels sing the lay of Androcles and the Lion. I willbe on my guard with him."'
So saying, he rose from above the man of the woods, and permitted him.also to arise. The creature seemed sensible of the clemency, for hemuttered in a low and supplicating tone, which seemed at once to cravefor mercy, and to return thanks for what he had already experienced. Hewept too, as he saw the blood dropping from his wound, and with ananxious countenance, which had more of the human now that it wascomposed into an expression of pain and melancholy, seemed to await interror the doom of a being more powerful than himself.
The pocket which the knight wore under his armour, capable ofcontaining but few things, had, however, some vulnerary balsam, forwhich its owner had often occasion, a little lint, and a small roll oflinen; these the knight took out, and motioned to the animal to holdforth his wounded hand. The man of the woods obeyed with hesitation andreluctance, and Count Robert applied the balsam and the dressings,acquainting his patient, at the same time, in a severe tone of voice,that perhaps he did wrong in putting to his use a balsam compounded forthe service of the noblest knights; but that, if he saw the least signof his making an ungrateful use of the benefit he had conferred, hewould bury the dagger, of which he had felt the efficacy, to the veryhandle, in his body.
The Sylvan looked fixedly upon Count Robert, almost as if he understoodthe language used to him, and, making one of its native murmurs, itstooped to the earth, kissed the feet of the knight, and embracing hisknees, seemed to swear to him eternal gratitude and fidelity.Accordingly, when the Count retired to the bed and assumed his armour,to await the re-opening of the trap-door, the animal sat down by hisside, directing its eyes in the line with his, and seemed quietly towait till the door should open. After waiting about an hour, a slightnoise was heard in the upper chamber, and the wild man plucked theFrank by the cloak, as if to call his attention to what was about tohappen. The same voice which had before spoken, was, after a whistle ortwo, heard to call, "Sylvan, Sylvan! where loiterest thou? Comeinstantly, or, by the rood, thou shalt abye thy sloth!"
The poor monster, as Trinculo might have called him, seemed perfectlyaware of the meaning of this threat, and showed his sense of it bypressing close to the side of Count Robert, making at the same time akind of whining, entreating, it would seem, the knight's protection.Forgetting the great improbability there was, even in his own opinion,that the creature could understand him, Count Robert said, "Why, myfriend, thou hast already learned the principal court prayer of thiscountry, by which men. entreat permission, to speak and live. Fearnothing, poor creature--I am thy protector."
"Sylvan! what, ho!" said the voice again; "whom hast thou got for acompanion?--some of the fiends, or ghosts of murdered men, who they sayare frequent in these dungeons? or dost thou converse with the oldblind rebel Grecian?--or, finally, is it true what men say of thee,that thou canst talk intelligibly when thou wilt, and only gibberestand chatterest for fear thou art sent to work? Come, thou lazy rascal!thou shalt have the advantage of the ladder to ascend by, though thouneedest it no more than a daw to ascend the steeple of the Cathedral ofSt. Sophia. [Footnote: Now the chief mosque of the Ottoman capital.]Come along then," he said, putting a ladder down the trap-door, "andput me not to the trouble of descending to fetch thee, else, by St.Swithin, it shall be the worse for thee. Come along, therefore, like agood fellow, and for once I shall spare the whip."
The animal, apparently, was moved by this rhetoric, for, with a dolefullook, which Count Robert saw by means of the nearly extinguished torch,he seemed to bid him farewell, and to creep away towards the ladderwith the same excellent good-will wherewith a condemned criminalperforms the like evolution. But no sooner did the Count look angry,and shake the formidable dagger, than the intelligent animal seemed atonce to take his resolution, and clenching his hands firmly together inthe fashion of one who has made up his mind, he returned from theladder's foot, and drew up behind Count Robert,--with the air, however,of a deserter, who feels himself but little at home when called intothe field against his ancient commander.
In a short time the warder's patience was exhausted, and despairing ofthe Sylvan's voluntary return, he resolved to descend in quest of him.Down the ladder he came, a bundle of keys in one hand, the otherassisting his descent, and a sort of dark lantern, whose bottom was sofashioned that he could wear it upon his head like a hat. He had scarcestept on the floor, when he was surrounded by the nervous arms of theCount of Paris. At first the warder's idea was, that he was seized bythe recusant Sylvan.
"How now, villain!" he said; "let me go, or thou shalt die the death."
"Thou diest thyself," said the Count, who, between the surprise and hisown skill in wrestling, felt fully his advantage in the struggle.
"Treason! treason!" cried the warder, hearing by the voice that astranger had mingled in the contest; "help, ho! above there! help,Hereward--Varangian!--Anglo-Saxon, or whatever accursed name thoucallest thyself!"
"Yield, as your own jargon goes, rescue or no rescue," said theVarangian, "or die on the point of my dagger!"
"A French Count never yields," answered Robert, who began to conjecturewith what sort of person he was engaged, "above all to a vagabond slavelike thee!" With this he made an effort to rise, so sudden, so strong,so powerful, that he had almost freed himself from the Varangian'sgrasp, had not Hereward, by a violent exertion of his great strength,preserved the advantage he had gained, and raised his poniard to endthe strife for ever; but a loud chuckling laugh of an unearthly soundwas at this instant heard. The Varangian's extended arm was seized withvigour, while a rough arm embracing his throat, turned him over on hisback, and gave the French Count an opportunity of springing up.
"Death to thee, wretch!" said the Varangian, scarce knowing whom hethreatened; but the man of the woods apparently had an awfulrecollection of the prowess of human beings. He fled, therefore,swiftly up the ladder, and left Hereward and his deliverer to fight itout with what success chance might determine between them.
The circumstances seemed to argue a desperate combat; both were tall,strong, and courageous, both had defensive armour, and the fatal anddesperate poniard was their only offensive weapon. They paused facingeach other, and examined eagerly into their respective means of defencebefore hazarding a blow, which, if it missed, its attaint wouldcertainly be fatally requited. During this deadly pause, a gleam shonefrom the trapdoor above, as the wild and alarmed visage of the man ofthe woods was seen peering down by the light of a newly kindled torchwhich he held as low into the dungeon as he well could.
"Fight bravely, comrade," said Count Robert of Paris, "for we no longerbattle in private; this respectable person, having chosen to constitutehimself judge of the field."
Hazardous as his situation was, the Varangian looked up, and was sostruck with the wild and terrified expression which the creature hadassumed, and the strife between curiosity and terror which itsgrotesque features exhibited, that he could not help bursting into afit of laughter.
"Sylvan is among those," said Hereward, "who would rather hold thecandle to a dance so formidable than join in it himself."
"Is there then," said Count Robert, "any absolute necessity that thouand I perform this dance at all?"
"None but our own pleasure," answered Hereward; "for I suspect there isnot between us any legitimate cause of quarrel demanding to be foughtout in such a place, and before such a spectator. Thou art, if Imistake not, the bold Frank, who was yesternight imprisoned in thisplace with, a tiger, chained within no distant spring of his bed?"
"I am," answered the Count.
"And where is the animal who was opposed to thee?"
"He lies yonder," answered the Count, "never again to be the object ofmore terror than the deer whom he may have preyed on in his day." Hepointed to the body of the tiger, which Hereward examined by the lightof the dark lantern already mentioned.
"And this, then, was thy handiwork?" said the wondering Anglo-Saxon.
"Sooth to say it was," answered the Count, with indifference.
"And thou hast slain my comrade of this strange watch?" said theVarangian.
"Mortally wounded him at the least," said Count Robert.
"With your patience, I will be beholden to you for a moment's truce,while I examine his wound," said Hereward.
"Assuredly," answered the Count; "blighted be the arm which strikes afoul blow at an open antagonist!"
Without demanding further security, the Varangian quitted his postureof defence and precaution, and set himself, by the assistance of thedark lantern, to examine the wound of the first warder who appeared onthe field, who seemed, by his Roman military dress, to be a soldier ofthe bands called Immortals. Pie found him in the death-agony, but stillable to speak.
"So, Varangian, thou art come at last,--and is it to thy sloth ortreachery that I am to impute my fate?--Nay, answer me not!--Thestranger struck me over the collar-bone--had we lived long together, ormet often, I had done the like by thee, to wipe out the memory ofcertain transactions at the Golden Gate.--I know the use of the knifetoo well to doubt the effect of a blow aimed over the collar-bone by sostrong a hand--I feel it coming. The Immortal, so called, becomes now,if priests say true, an immortal indeed, and Sebastes of Mytilene's bowis broken ere his quiver is half emptied."
The robber Greek sunk back in Hereward's arms, and closed his life witha groan, which was the last sound he uttered. The Varangian laid thebody at length on the dungeon floor.
"This is a perplexed matter," he said; "I am certainly not called uponto put to death a brave man, although my national enemy, because hehath killed a miscreant who was privately meditating my own murder.Neither is this a place or a light by which to fight as becomes thechampions of two nations. Let that quarrel be still for thepresent.--How say you then, noble sir, if we adjourn the presentdispute till we effect your deliverance from the dungeons of theBlacquernal, and your restoration to your own friends and followers? Ifa poor Varangian should be of service to you in this matter, would you,when it was settled, refuse to meet him in fair fight, with yournational weapons or his own?"
"If," said Count Robert, "whether friend or enemy, thou wilt extend thyassistance to my wife, who is also imprisoned somewhere in thisinhospitable palace, be assured, that whatever be thy rank, whatever bethy country, whatever be thy condition, Robert of Paris will, at thychoice, proffer thee his right hand in friendship, or raise it againstthee in fair and manly battle--a strife not of hatred, but of honourand esteem; and this I vow by the soul of Charlemagne, my ancestor, andby the shrine of my patroness, Our Lady of the Broken Lances."
"Enough said," replied Hereward. "I am as much bound to the assistanceof your Lady Countess, being a poor exile, as if I were the first inthe ranks of chivalry; for if any thing can make the cause of worth andbravery yet more obligatory, it must be its being united with that of ahelpless and suffering female."
"I ought," said Count Robert, "to be here silent, without loading thygenerosity with farther requests; yet thou art a man, whom, if fortunehas not smiled at thy birth, by ordaining thee to be born within theranks of noblesse and knighthood, yet Providence hath done thee morejustice by giving thee a more gallant heart than is always possessed, Ifear, by those who are inwoven in the gayest wreath of chivalry. Therelingers here in these dungeons, for I cannot say he lives--a blind oldman, to whom for three years every thing beyond his prison has been auniversal blot. His food is bread and water, his intercourse limited tothe conversation of a sullen warder, and if death can ever come as adeliverer, it must be to this dark old man. What sayst thou? Shall he,so unutterably miserable, not profit by perhaps the only opportunity offreedom that may ever occur to him?"
"By St. Dunstan," answered the Varangian, "thou keepest over truly theoath thou hast taken as a redresser of wrongs! Thine own case iswell-nigh desperate, and thou art willing to make it utterly so byuniting with it that of every unhappy person whom fate throws in thyway!"
"The more of human misery we attempt to relieve,
" said Robert of Paris,"the more we shall carry with us the blessing of our merciful saints,and Our Lady of the Broken Lances, who views with so much pain everyspecies of human suffering or misfortune, save that which occurs withinthe enclosure of the lists. But come, valiant Anglo-Saxon, resolve meon my request as speedily as thou canst. There is something in thy faceof candour as well as sense, and it is with no small confidence that Idesire to see us set forth in quest of my beloved Countess, who, whenher deliverance is once achieved, will be a powerful aid to us inrecovering that of others."
"So be it, then," said the Varangian; "we will proceed in quest of theCountess Brenhilda; and if, on recovering her, we find ourselves strongenough to procure the freedom of the dark old man, my cowardice, orwant of compassion, shall never stop the attempt."
