by A. D. Crake
CHAPTER XXV. IN THE FOREST OF LEBANON.
Thirty years had passed away since the events recorded in our lastchapter, and the mighty Conqueror himself had gone to render anaccount of his stewardship to the Judge of all men.
The thoughts and aspirations of all Christian people were nowattracted to far different subjects from the woes or wrongs of theEnglish nation. The Crusades had begun. Peter the Hermit had movedall Christendom by his fiery eloquence, and sent them to avenge thewrongs the pilgrims of the cross had sustained from Turkish hands,and to free the holy soil from the spawn of the false prophet.
Since the Caliph Omar received the capitulation of Jerusalem, in637, and established therein the religion of Mahomed, no greatercalamity had ever befallen Christendom than the conquest of AsiaMinor, and subsequently Syria, by the Turks.
The latter event, which occurred about nine years after the NormanConquest of England, transferred the government of Palestine, andthe custody of the holy places, from a race which, althoughMahometan, was yet tolerant, to a far fiercer and "anti-human"government The "unspeakable Turk" had appeared on the scene ofEuropean politics.
For, under the milder rule of the Fatimite Caliphs, who reignedover Jerusalem from A.D. 969 to 1076, a peculiar quarter of theholy city had been assigned to the Christians; a fair tributesecured them protection, and the Sepulchre of Christ, with theother scenes identified with the Passion, were left in their hands.Greeks and Latins alike enjoyed freedom of worship, and crowds ofpilgrims flocked from all the western nations.
Then appeared our Turks on the scene. They first ravished AsiaMinor from the weak grasp of the later Roman Empire, andestablished their capital and worship--the abomination ofdesolation--where the first great Christian council had drawn upthe Nicene Creed, that is, at Nicaea in Bithynia.
Then, later on, under the Sultan Malek Shah, they attacked Syriaand Egypt, and the Holy Land passed under that blighting rule,which has ever since withered it in its grasp, with a few briefintervals.
And now the scene changed: the pilgrims, who through innumerabledangers had reached the holy city, only entered it to become thevictims of contumely and savage insult, and often perished bybrutal violence before they reached their goal--the Holy Sepulchre.
The very patriarch of Jerusalem was dragged by the hair and castinto a filthy dungeon, in order to exact a heavy ransom from thesympathy of his flock, and the tale of his sufferings harrowed allhearts.
For twenty years all this was borne.
At length came a pilgrim--then unknown to fame. He was a hermit,named Peter, and came from Picardy in France. He mingled his tearswith those of the patriarch, to whom he obtained access.
"What can we do?" said the poor prelate. "The successors ofConstantine are no match for the fiery Turk."
"I will rouse the martial nations of Europe in your cause," was thereply.
History tells how Peter the Hermit kept his word: how his fieryeloquence aroused and kindled all hearts; how Christendom sentforth her myriads, as under some potent spell.
At the council of Clermont, in November 1095, took place thatfamous scene in the presence of Pope Urban, when the cry, "Godwills it," thrilled from myriad lips, and became the watchword ofthe Crusaders.
Men sold their estates for mere trifles; kings and dukes, likeRobert of Normandy, mortgaged their very crowns, that they mightfight in so holy a cause; and avaricious, cunning, and greedymonarchs, like Rufus, stayed at home and bought cheaply.
And as with the monarch, so with the vassal; land was a drug in themarket, and horses and arms went up cent per cent.
The principal leaders of the first great Crusade {xxvi} wereGodfrey de Bouillon (duke of the empire), Hugh of Vermandois,Robert of Normandy, Raymond of Toulouse, Bohemond and Tancred ofthe race of Robert Guiscard, the Norman conqueror of southernItaly.
Under their leadership, Constantinople was reached in safety. Niceawas besieged, and taken from the Turkish Sultan, Soliman.
Then they first met the Turks in battle array at Dorylaeum--anawful conflict which took place on the 4th of July 1097, in whichnearly four hundred thousand Moslems were arrayed against theCrusaders.
The Sultan evacuated Asia Minor, and the expedition passed througha wasted land and deserted towns, without meeting a single enemy.
Nine months they were delayed before the city of Antioch, fromOctober 1097 to June 1098, when the city was taken by storm.
Then they were besieged themselves in that city, by nearly half amillion of Turks, and though reduced to the shadow of their formerstrength, they sallied forth and utterly defeated their besiegers,whose camp fell into their hands. Nothing could stand before theenthusiasm of the western warriors, who fancied they saw spectralforms of saints and martyrs fighting by their side.
At length, all obstacles removed, in the month of May, in the lastyear of the eleventh century, they entered the Holy Land.
On this sacred soil the action of our tale recommences.
. . . . .
It was a lovely evening in May, and the year was the last of theeleventh century.
The sun had gone down about half an hour, but had left behind him aflood of golden light in the west, glorious to behold--so calm, sotransparent was that heavenly after glow, wherein deep ceruleanblue was flecked with the brightest crimson or the ruddiest gold.
The moon had risen in the east, and was shining from a deepdark-blue background, which conveyed the idea of immeasurablespace, with a brilliancy which she seldom or never attains in ournorthern sky.
A group of warriors had kindled a fire beneath the wide-spreadingbranches of an immense cedar tree, which had, perhaps, been plantedin the reign of Solomon to supply the loss of those cut down forthe temple by Hiram of Tyre.
The landscape was a striking one.
Above them, in the distance, opened a mighty gorge, through whichflowed the rushing waters of a mountain torrent, one of the sourcesof the Jordan, issuing from the snows of Hermon.
Below, the country expanded into a gently undulating plain, studdedwith cedars, which resembled in no small degree the precincts ofsome old English park.
Let us glance at the warriors, and we shall speedily learn thatthey are no natives of the soil.
The armour they have laid aside, the coats of linked mail, withlong sleeves of similar material, the big triangular shields,plated gauntlets, and steel breastplates, sufficiently bespoketheir western nationality; but the red cross, conspicuous on theright sleeve, told that they were Crusaders.
Their leader appeared to be a young knight who, one would think,had scarcely won his spurs, or had but recently done so; and hisretinue was limited to the customary attendance upon a single"lance," a dozen men-at-arms, completely equipped, and twice thatnumber of light archers.
Their horses were picketed at a slight distance, so that they mightgraze easily, and like their owners, were divested of theirarmour--for the steeds also were usually loaded with defensive mailcovering the more vital parts of their frames.
The flesh of a deer was roasting at the general fire, and diffusinga savoury odour around, and all the members of the company wereintent upon rest and enjoyment.
Apart from them stood their solitary sentinel, looking with dreamygaze over the fair landscape, and musing, perchance, of far-offEngland--of his distant love, or of wife and children, andwondering, very likely, whether, the war ended, he would live toreturn, with all the prestige of a warrior of the Cross, and tellof the marvels of Eastern climes to many a rustic audience.
Amidst these musings a sound fell upon his ear, which at first hedid not recognise, but which rapidly assumed the character of thatrumbling, earth-shaking, thunder-like sound which a large body ofcavalry, approaching at a gallop, but yet afar off, would make.
He strained his gaze along the desert wastes, beneath the spreadingbranches of many cedars; but as yet no sight met the eye to supportthe impressions made already upon the ear.
It was not long, however, before the rapidly approaching soundsbe
came too distinct to suffer him to hesitate, and he gave thealarm.
The merry song ceased; the conversation dropped; and in the awfulstillness the senses of each man confirmed the report of thesentinel.
"They may be friends," said the young knight.
"Friends are scarce in the desert," said an aged man-at-arms, theNestor of the expedition; "permit us to arm, my lord."
The word was given, and each man-at-arms hastened to his steed; thearchers--footmen--adjusted their bows, when a troop of wildhorsemen, approaching with the speed of the wind, became visible.
They appeared to number a hundred men, so far as they could bediscerned and their force estimated amidst the dust which theycreated, and their ever-changing evolutions. Anon grim forms andwild faces appeared from the cloud; spears glanced in everydirection--now whirled around their heads, now thrown and caughtwith the dexterity of jugglers.
They seemed to manage their horses less by the bridle than by theinflections of their bodies, so that they could spare, at need,both hands for combat--the one to hold the bucklers of rhinocerosskin or crocodile hide, the other to wield spear or scimitar.
Turbans surrounded their heads, and light garments their bodies;but defensive armour had they none.
"Let them come on," said the young knight; "we would not give way,though the desert yielded twenty times such scum."
But they knew too well their own inferiority in the charge toventure upon the steel of their mail-clad opponents. At about ahundred yards distance from their quarry they swerved, divided intotwo parties, and, riding to the right and left of their Christianopponents, discharged upon them such a storm of darts and arrowsthat the very air seemed darkened.
"Charge," shouted the young knight, "for God and the HolySepulchre."
They charged, but might as well have ridden after the mirage of thedesert; the speed of the Arab horses seemed incredible, and theyeluded the charge as easily as a hare might elude that of atortoise. The Crusaders returned to their original station aroundthe cedar.
They looked at each other. Ten bodies, dead or wounded, lay still,or writhing on the ground; for they had not had time to coverthemselves fully with their defensive armour, ere the storm ofarrows came down upon them, and most of the party were bleeding.
"They are gone," said the young knight.
"Not they, my lord," replied his Nestor; "a hungry wolf does not soeasily satisfy his craving with a mouthful--not they; they willcome again, and in such a fashion, I fear, as to try our strengthrarely. See, they are wheeling round. Let each man look well to hisarmour, steady his spear, guard himself well with shield. They maycharge this time, seeing our strength so sadly reduced."
"Hourra! hourra!" rang over the desert, and once more the savagehorsemen came down like eagles swooping upon their prey.
Again they divided; again they passed at a slight interval oftime--just enough to prevent their receiving, on either side, sucharrows from their own brethren as found no sheath in English shieldor flesh--passed like the wind, and the deadly cloud ofdeath-dealing darts came like the fatal simoon of the desert, upontheir helpless foe.
Nay, not quite helpless; for at least a dozen Arab steeds roamedthe plain riderless. English archers, for they were from England,were English archers still.
But in so unequal a strife numbers must have finally prevailed.
It was impossible for the English to charge so impalpable anassailant; all they could do was to protect themselves, as far aspossible, by shield and coat of mail, while behind the livingrampart of steel-clad warriors, the archers returned arrow forarrow, so far as time and numbers suffered them.
"Shall we not charge?" whispered more than once our boyish knightto the old warrior, who had fought thirty years before at Hastings,by whose advice his elders had instructed him to abide in case ofemergency.
"Nay, were we separated, they would find out every joint in ourmail, and riddle us with arrows till we looked like porcupines,while they would never tarry to abide one honest blow of abattle-axe. Upon our archers depends our chance."
It would be a waste of time to tell in detail how the assailantsagain and again repeated the same manoeuvre, until their Christianopponents were reduced to a handful, when at length the Turkschanged their tactics and suddenly charged with all their force.
All would have been over with the Crusaders, crushed beneath theweight of numbers, in spite of their superior weapons, at closequarters. All seemed ended; the young knight, indeed, protected byhis excellent armour, still fought with all the valour of hisNorman race--fought like a paladin of romance--when--
A sudden cry, "Holy Cross to the rescue!" and a gallant band oflight horsemen charged the Infidels in the rear.
The assailants became the assailed, and fled in all directions.
"Rise up, sir knight--for knight you should be," said a stern manlyvoice; and a warrior of noble mien, whose features were yet hiddenbehind his visor, raised the youthful hero from the ground.
