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<h2> CHAPTER XIV. </h2>
<p>All my long arrear of honour lost,<br/>
Heap'd up in youth, and hoarded up for age.<br/>
Hath Honour's fountain then suck'd up the stream?<br/>
He hath—and hooting boys may barefoot pass,<br/>
And gather pebbles from the naked ford!<br/>
DON SEBASTIAN.<br/></p>
<p>After a torrent of afflicting sensations, by which he was at first almost
stunned and confounded, Sir Kenneth's first thought was to look for the
authors of this violation of the English banner; but in no direction could
he see traces of them. His next, which to some persons, but scarce to any
who have made intimate acquaintances among the canine race, may appear
strange, was to examine the condition of his faithful Roswal, mortally
wounded, as it seemed, in discharging the duty which his master had been
seduced to abandon. He caressed the dying animal, who, faithful to the
last, seemed to forget his own pain in the satisfaction he received from
his master's presence, and continued wagging his tail and licking his
hand, even while by low moanings he expressed that his agony was increased
by the attempts which Sir Kenneth made to withdraw from the wound the
fragment of the lance or javelin with which it had been inflicted; then
redoubled his feeble endearments, as if fearing he had offended his master
by showing a sense of the pain to which his interference had subjected
him. There was something in the display of the dying creature's attachment
which mixed as a bitter ingredient with the sense of disgrace and
desolation by which Sir Kenneth was oppressed. His only friend seemed
removed from him, just when he had incurred the contempt and hatred of all
besides. The knight's strength of mind gave way to a burst of agonized
distress, and he groaned and wept aloud.</p>
<p>While he thus indulged his grief, a clear and solemn voice, close beside
him, pronounced these words in the sonorous tone of the readers of the
mosque, and in the lingua franca mutually understood by Christians and
Saracens:—</p>
<p>"Adversity is like the period of the former and of the latter rain—cold,
comfortless, unfriendly to man and to animal; yet from that season have
their birth the flower and the fruit, the date, the rose, and the
pomegranate."</p>
<p>Sir Kenneth of the Leopard turned towards the speaker, and beheld the
Arabian physician, who, approaching unheard, had seated himself a little
behind him cross-legged, and uttered with gravity, yet not without a tone
of sympathy, the moral sentences of consolation with which the Koran and
its commentators supplied him; for, in the East, wisdom is held to consist
less in a display of the sage's own inventive talents, than in his ready
memory and happy application of and reference to "that which is written."</p>
<p>Ashamed at being surprised in a womanlike expression of sorrow, Sir
Kenneth dashed his tears indignantly aside, and again busied himself with
his dying favourite.</p>
<p>"The poet hath said," continued the Arab, without noticing the knight's
averted looks and sullen deportment, "the ox for the field, and the camel
for the desert. Were not the hand of the leech fitter than that of the
soldier to cure wounds, though less able to inflict them?"</p>
<p>"This patient, Hakim, is beyond thy help," said Sir Kenneth; "and,
besides, he is, by thy law, an unclean animal."</p>
<p>"Where Allah hath deigned to bestow life, and a sense of pain and
pleasure," said the physician, "it were sinful pride should the sage, whom
He has enlightened, refuse to prolong existence or assuage agony. To the
sage, the cure of a miserable groom, of a poor dog and of a conquering
monarch, are events of little distinction. Let me examine this wounded
animal."</p>
<p>Sir Kenneth acceded in silence, and the physician inspected and handled
Roswal's wound with as much care and attention as if he had been a human
being. He then took forth a case of instruments, and, by the judicious and
skilful application of pincers, withdrew from the wounded shoulder the
fragment of the weapon, and stopped with styptics and bandages the
effusion of blood which followed; the creature all the while suffering him
patiently to perform these kind offices, as if he had been aware of his
kind intentions.</p>
<p>"The animal may be cured," said El Hakim, addressing himself to Sir
Kenneth, "if you will permit me to carry him to my tent, and treat him
with the care which the nobleness of his nature deserves. For know, that
thy servant Adonbec is no less skilful in the race and pedigree and
distinctions of good dogs and of noble steeds than in the diseases which
afflict the human race."</p>
<p>"Take him with you," said the knight. "I bestow him on you freely, if he
recovers. I owe thee a reward for attendance on my squire, and have
nothing else to pay it with. For myself, I will never again wind bugle or
halloo to hound!"</p>
<p>The Arabian made no reply, but gave a signal with a clapping of his hands,
which was instantly answered by the appearance of two black slaves. He
gave them his orders in Arabic, received the answer that "to hear was to
obey," when, taking the animal in their arms, they removed him, without
much resistance on his part; for though his eyes turned to his master, he
was too weak to struggle.</p>
<p>"Fare thee well, Roswal, then," said Sir Kenneth—"fare thee well, my
last and only friend—thou art too noble a possession to be retained
by one such as I must in future call myself!—I would," he said, as
the slaves retired, "that, dying as he is, I could exchange conditions
with that noble animal!"</p>
<p>"It is written," answered the Arabian, although the exclamation had not
been addressed to him, "that all creatures are fashioned for the service
of man; and the master of the earth speaketh folly when he would exchange,
in his impatience, his hopes here and to come for the servile condition of
an inferior being."</p>
<p>"A dog who dies in discharging his duty," said the knight sternly, "is
better than a man who survives the desertion of it. Leave me, Hakim; thou
hast, on this side of miracle, the most wonderful science which man ever
possessed, but the wounds of the spirit are beyond thy power."</p>
<p>"Not if the patient will explain his calamity, and be guided by the
physician," said Adonbec el Hakim.</p>
<p>"Know, then," said Sir Kenneth, "since thou art so importunate, that last
night the Banner of England was displayed from this mound—I was its
appointed guardian—morning is now breaking—there lies the
broken banner-spear, the standard itself is lost, and here sit I a living
man!"</p>
<p>"How!" said El Hakim, examining him; "thy armour is whole—there is
no blood on thy weapons, and report speaks thee one unlikely to return
thus from fight. Thou hast been trained from thy post—ay, trained by
the rosy cheek and black eye of one of those houris, to whom you Nazarenes
vow rather such service as is due to Allah, than such love as may lawfully
be rendered to forms of clay like our own. It has been thus assuredly; for
so hath man ever fallen, even since the days of Sultan Adam."</p>
<p>"And if it were so, physician," said Sir Kenneth sullenly, "what remedy?"</p>
<p>"Knowledge is the parent of power," said El Hakim, "as valour supplies
strength. Listen to me. Man is not as a tree, bound to one spot of earth;
nor is he framed to cling to one bare rock, like the scarce animated
shell-fish. Thine own Christian writings command thee, when persecuted in
one city, to flee to another; and we Moslem also know that Mohammed, the
Prophet of Allah, driven forth from the holy city of Mecca, found his
refuge and his helpmates at Medina."</p>
<p>"And what does this concern me?" said the Scot.</p>
<p>"Much," answered the physician. "Even the sage flies the tempest which he
cannot control. Use thy speed, therefore, and fly from the vengeance of
Richard to the shadow of Saladin's victorious banner."</p>
<p>"I might indeed hide my dishonour," said Sir Kenneth ironically, "in a
camp of infidel heathens, where the very phrase is unknown. But had I not
better partake more fully in their reproach? Does not thy advice stretch
so far as to recommend me to take the turban? Methinks I want but apostasy
to consummate my infamy."</p>
<p>"Blaspheme not, Nazarene," said the physician sternly. "Saladin makes no
converts to the law of the Prophet, save those on whom its precepts shall
work conviction. Open thine eyes to the light, and the great Soldan, whose
liberality is as boundless as his power, may bestow on thee a kingdom;
remain blinded if thou will, and, being one whose second life is doomed to
misery, Saladin will yet, for this span of present time, make thee rich
and happy. But fear not that thy brows shall be bound with the turban,
save at thine own free choice."</p>
<p>"My choice were rather," said the knight, "that my writhen features should
blacken, as they are like to do, in this evening's setting sun."</p>
<p>"Yet thou art not wise, Nazarene," said El Hakim, "to reject this fair
offer; for I have power with Saladin, and can raise thee high in his
grace. Look you, my son—this Crusade, as you call your wild
enterprise, is like a large dromond [The largest sort of vessels then
known were termed dromond's, or dromedaries.] parting asunder in the
waves. Thou thyself hast borne terms of truce from the kings and princes,
whose force is here assembled, to the mighty Soldan, and knewest not,
perchance, the full tenor of thine own errand."</p>
<p>"I knew not, and I care not," said the knight impatiently. "What avails it
to me that I have been of late the envoy of princes, when, ere night, I
shall be a gibbeted and dishonoured corpse?"</p>
<p>"Nay, I speak that it may not be so with thee," said the physician.
"Saladin is courted on all sides. The combined princes of this league
formed against him have made such proposals of composition and peace, as,
in other circumstances, it might have become his honour to have granted to
them. Others have made private offers, on their own separate account, to
disjoin their forces from the camp of the Kings of Frangistan, and even to
lend their arms to the defence of the standard of the Prophet. But Saladin
will not be served by such treacherous and interested defection. The king
of kings will treat only with the Lion King. Saladin will hold treaty with
none but the Melech Ric, and with him he will treat like a prince, or
fight like a champion. To Richard he will yield such conditions of his
free liberality as the swords of all Europe could never compel from him by
force or terror. He will permit a free pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and all
the places where the Nazarenes list to worship; nay, he will so far share
even his empire with his brother Richard, that he will allow Christian
garrisons in the six strongest cities of Palestine, and one in Jerusalem
itself, and suffer them to be under the immediate command of the officers
of Richard, who, he consents, shall bear the name of King Guardian of
Jerusalem. Yet further, strange and incredible as you may think it, know,
Sir Knight—for to your honour I can commit even that almost
incredible secret—know that Saladin will put a sacred seal on this
happy union betwixt the bravest and noblest of Frangistan and Asia, by
raising to the rank of his royal spouse a Christian damsel, allied in
blood to King Richard, and known by the name of the Lady Edith of
Plantagenet." [This may appear so extraordinary and improbable a
proposition that it is necessary to say such a one was actually made. The
historians, however, substitute the widowed Queen of Naples, sister of
Richard, for the bride, and Saladin's brother for the bridegroom. They
appear to have been ignorant of the existence of Edith of Plantagenet.—See
MILL'S History of the Crusades, vol. ii., p. 61.]</p>
<p>"Ha!—sayest thou?" exclaimed Sir Kenneth, who, listening with
indifference and apathy to the preceding part of El Hakim's speech, was
touched by this last communication, as the thrill of a nerve, unexpectedly
jarred, will awaken the sensation of agony, even in the torpor of palsy.
Then, moderating his tone, by dint of much effort he restrained his
indignation, and, veiling it under the appearance of contemptuous doubt,
he prosecuted the conversation, in order to get as much knowledge as
possible of the plot, as he deemed it, against the honour and happiness of
her whom he loved not the less that his passion had ruined, apparently,
his fortunes, at once, and his honour.—"And what Christian," he
said, With tolerable calmness, "would sanction a union so unnatural as
that of a Christian maiden with an unbelieving Saracen?"</p>
<p>"Thou art but an ignorant, bigoted Nazarene," said the Hakim. "Seest thou
not how the Mohammedan princes daily intermarry with the noble Nazarene
maidens in Spain, without scandal either to Moor or Christian? And the
noble Soldan will, in his full confidence in the blood of Richard, permit
the English maid the freedom which your Frankish manners have assigned to
women. He will allow her the free exercise of her religion, seeing that,
in very truth, it signifies but little to which faith females are
addicted; and he will assign her such place and rank over all the women of
his zenana, that she shall be in every respect his sole and absolute
queen."</p>
<p>"What!" said Sir Kenneth, "darest thou think, Moslem, that Richard would
give his kinswoman—a high-born and virtuous princess—to be, at
best, the foremost concubine in the haram of a misbeliever? Know, Hakim,
the meanest free Christian noble would scorn, on his child's behalf, such
splendid ignominy."</p>
<p>"Thou errest," said the Hakim. "Philip of France, and Henry of Champagne,
and others of Richard's principal allies, have heard the proposal without
starting, and have promised, as far as they may, to forward an alliance
that may end these wasteful wars; and the wise arch-priest of Tyre hath
undertaken to break the proposal to Richard, not doubting that he shall be
able to bring the plan to good issue. The Soldan's wisdom hath as yet kept
his proposition secret from others, such as he of Montserrat, and the
Master of the Templars, because he knows they seek to thrive by Richard's
death or disgrace, not by his life or honour. Up, therefore, Sir Knight,
and to horse. I will give thee a scroll which shall advance thee highly
with the Soldan; and deem not that you are leaving your country, or her
cause, or her religion, since the interest of the two monarchs will
speedily be the same. To Saladin thy counsel will be most acceptable,
since thou canst make him aware of much concerning the marriages of the
Christians, the treatment of their wives, and other points of their laws
and usages, which, in the course of such treaty, it much concerns him that
he should know. The right hand of the Soldan grasps the treasures of the
East, and it is the fountain or generosity. Or, if thou desirest it,
Saladin, when allied with England, can have but little difficulty to
obtain from Richard, not only thy pardon and restoration to favour, but an
honourable command in the troops which may be left of the King of
England's host, to maintain their joint government in Palestine. Up, then,
and mount—there lies a plain path before thee."</p>
<p>"Hakim," said the Scottish knight, "thou art a man of peace; also thou
hast saved the life of Richard of England—and, moreover, of my own
poor esquire, Strauchan. I have, therefore, heard to an end a matter
which, being propounded by another Moslem than thyself, I would have cut
short with a blow of my dagger! Hakim, in return for thy kindness, I
advise thee to see that the Saracen who shall propose to Richard a union
betwixt the blood of Plantagenet and that of his accursed race do put on a
helmet which is capable to endure such a blow of a battle-axe as that
which struck down the gate of Acre. Certes, he will be otherwise placed
beyond the reach even of thy skill."</p>
<p>"Thou art, then, wilfully determined not to fly to the Saracen host?" said
the physician. "Yet, remember, thou stayest to certain destruction; and
the writings of thy law, as well as ours, prohibit man from breaking into
the tabernacle of his own life."</p>
<p>"God forbid!" replied the Scot, crossing himself; "but we are also
forbidden to avoid the punishment which our crimes have deserved. And
since so poor are thy thoughts of fidelity, Hakim, it grudges me that I
have bestowed my good hound on thee, for, should he live, he will have a
master ignorant of his value."</p>
<p>"A gift that is begrudged is already recalled," said El Hakim; "only we
physicians are sworn not to send away a patient uncured. If the dog
recover, he is once more yours."</p>
<p>"Go to, Hakim," answered Sir Kenneth; "men speak not of hawk and hound
when there is but an hour of day-breaking betwixt them and death. Leave me
to recollect my sins, and reconcile myself to Heaven."</p>
<p>"I leave thee in thine obstinacy," said the physician; "the mist hides the
precipice from those who are doomed to fall over it."</p>
<p>He withdrew slowly, turning from time to time his head, as if to observe
whether the devoted knight might not recall him either by word or signal.
At last his turbaned figure was lost among the labyrinth of tents which
lay extended beneath, whitening in the pale light of the dawning, before
which the moonbeam had now faded away.</p>
<p>But although the physician Adonbec's words had not made that impression
upon Kenneth which the sage desired, they had inspired the Scot with a
motive for desiring life, which, dishonoured as he conceived himself to
be, he was before willing to part from as from a sullied vestment no
longer becoming his wear. Much that had passed betwixt himself and the
hermit, besides what he had observed between the anchorite and Sheerkohf
(or Ilderim), he now recalled to recollection, and tended to confirm what
the Hakim had told him of the secret article of the treaty.</p>
<p>"The reverend impostor!" he exclaimed to himself; "the hoary hypocrite! He
spoke of the unbelieving husband converted by the believing wife; and what
do I know but that the traitor exhibited to the Saracen, accursed of God,
the beauties of Edith Plantagenet, that the hound might judge if the
princely Christian lady were fit to be admitted into the haram of a
misbeliever? If I had yonder infidel Ilderim, or whatsoever he is called,
again in the gripe with which I once held him fast as ever hound held
hare, never again should HE at least come on errand disgraceful to the
honour of Christian king or noble and virtuous maiden. But I—my
hours are fast dwindling into minutes—yet, while I have life and
breath, something must be done, and speedily."</p>
<p>He paused for a few minutes, threw from him his helmet, then strode down
the hill, and took the road to King Richard's pavilion.</p>
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