Heroines of the Crusades Part 31

The great problem of the conquest of Palestine was not yet solved to the mind of Edward, but the progress of the age trammelled his powers and limited his ambitious aspirations. The orders of knighthood, exhausted by the repeated drafts made upon their forces, by these eastern expeditions, began to decline in the scale of power; and the lower ranks, finding new avenues to wealth in productive labor and commerce, began the great battle with military organizations and hereditary aristocracy, which has been going on with increased advantage to the working cla.s.ses from the middle ages to the present glorious era.

Gregory X. made some feeble attempts to rouse Europe once more for the redemption of the Holy Sepulchre, but his earnest appeal received no response from the sovereigns of Christendom, and within three years the last strain of the great anthem "Hierosolyma liberati" that began with the swelling tones of mustering warriors and sounded on through two centuries in the soul-stirring harmonies of jubilante peans, alternating with the mournful measures of funeral dirges, ended in a last sad refrain over the diminished remnants of the military orders, who, in a vain defence of Acre, dyed the sands of Syria with their blood.

From Sicily the royal crusaders proceeded to Rome, where they were cordially welcomed and splendidly entertained by Pope Gregory X., who, having long filled the office of confessor in their household, had been recalled from the Holy Land, to occupy the chair of St. Peter.

In the train of the King of England was his cousin, Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, a gallant young n.o.ble who had led the detachment that opposed the band of Leicester, and, by his warlike prowess, greatly contributed to the successful issue of the sanguinary conflict at Evesham. His zeal and loyalty during this doubtful period, commended him to the confidence of Edward, and he had still more endeared himself to his royal patron, by his ardor in battling against the Infidels, and his brilliant achievements at the siege of Nazareth.

The young Henry was the affianced husband of the Princess Mary, in consequence of which, Eleanora had admitted him to an intimacy, and evinced for him an affection almost equal to that enjoyed by the royal children themselves.

During the stay of the king at Rome, the devoted Henry obtained permission to make a pilgrimage to a celebrated shrine near Naples, for the consecration of sundry relics which he had collected in Palestine. As he knelt at the foot of the altar and closed his eyes in prayer, he was not aware of the entrance of his mortal enemy, Guy de Montfort, son of the Earl of Leicester. With stealthy tread the a.s.sa.s.sin approached, bent over the suppliant youth, and exclaiming, "Die! murderer of my father!" thrust his sword into the heart, beating warm with life and hope, and sprinkled the holy relics with the blood of another martyr. With a vengeful frown of satisfied hate, he wiped the sword, returned it to its scabbard, and strode from the church. One of his knights, fit follower of such a master, inquired as he rejoined his troop,

"What has my lord Guy de Montfort done?"

"Taken vengeance," was the fiendish reply.

"How so?" rejoined the knight. "Was not your father, the great Leicester, dragged a public spectacle, by the hair of the head through the streets of Evesham?"

Without a word the demon turned to his yet more malignant triumph, and seizing the victim, whose pale lips yet moved with the instinct of prayer, dragged him from the attendants, who were vainly striving to staunch the life-blood welling from the wound, to the public place, and left him a ghastly spectacle to the horror-stricken crowd.

It was now necessary for the murderers to think of self-defence. The English retainers of Earl Henry had raised the cry of revenge, and the Italian populace excited by the fearful tragedy that had been enacted in the very presence of the virgin and child, began to run together and join the parties of attack or defence. The train of de Montfort immediately raised the shout of, "d'Anjou! Down with the Ghibelines!" and when the armed forces of the Duke Charles rode into the midst of the throng to investigate the cause of the tumult, Sir Guy joined their ranks, and departed for Naples under their escort.

Tidings of this melancholy event were soon carried to Rome, and Edward immediately appealed to the pope for justice upon the murderer. Gregory, who feared to offend Edward, and who was almost equally alarmed at the prospect of a rupture with the tyrant of Sicily, had recourse to various ingenious methods of delay. Finding however that the King of England had determined to postpone the obsequies of his n.o.ble relative, until a curse was p.r.o.nounced upon the a.s.sa.s.sin, he was forced to the exercise of ecclesiastical measures.

Clothed in his pontifical robes, Gregory X. entered the church at Orvietto, and proceeding to the high altar, took the bible in his hand, and, after setting before the awestruck a.s.sembly the guilt of the culprit, proceeded thus to fulminate his anathema against the a.s.sa.s.sin.

"For the murder of Henry of Germany, slain before the shrine of St. Mary, in the face of day, we lay upon Guy de Montfort the curse of our Holy Church. In virtue of the authority bestowed upon us as the successor of St. Peter, we do p.r.o.nounce him excommunicate, and alien to all the privileges and consolations which our blessed religion affords. We permit every one to seize him--we order the governors of provinces to arrest him--we place under interdict all who shall render him an asylum--we prohibit all Christians from lending him aid, and we dispense his va.s.sals from all oaths of fidelity they have made to him; may none of the blessings of this holy book descend upon him, and may all the curses contained therein, cleave unto him;" and he dashed the bible to the ground.

Lifting the waxen taper, he continued, "Let the light of life be withdrawn from him, and let his soul sink in _eternal night_." With the word he threw the candle upon the pavement, and instantly every light in the church was extinguished, and amid the gloom, the trembling congregation heard the voice of the pontiff, ringing out full and clear, "I curse him by book, by candle, and by bell." A solemn toll proclaimed the malediction, and amid the darkness and the silence, the mult.i.tude crept one by one from the church, as though fearful of being implicated in the terrible denunciation.

Edward, having thus placed his cousin under the ban of the church, disdained to persecute him with farther vengeance, and taking an amicable leave of the pontiff continued his route to France. Learning that England was quiet under the regency of the queen-mother, he improved the opportunity to make the tour of his southern dominions, and, in gallant sports and knightly adventures pa.s.sed several months upon the continent.

Edward and Eleanora arrived in England, August 2d, 1273. The English welcomed their return with the greatest exultation. Both houses of parliament a.s.sembled to do honor to their entrance into London, and the streets were hung with garlands of flowers and festoons of silk; while the wealthy inhabitants, showered gold and silver on the royal retinue as they pa.s.sed.

Preparations were made for their coronation on a scale of magnificence hitherto unrivalled. Fourteen days were spent in erecting booths for the accommodation of the populace, and temporary kitchens for the purpose of roasting oxen, sheep, and fowls, and preparing cakes and pastry, for the expected banquet. Hogsheads of Bordeaux wine, and pipes of good stout English ale, were ranged at convenient intervals, and flagon-masters appointed to deal them out to the thirsty crowds.

The night before the expected ceremony, the presumptive king and queen were indulging in reminiscences of the early days of their married life, and comparing those troublous times, with the splendid future that seemed to stretch in bright perspective before them.

"Methinks, sweet life," said Edward, tenderly taking her hand, "those days when thou dwelt a fugitive in the wilds of Devonshire, and I languished within the walls of Kenilworth, gave little promise of our present peaceful state."

"True, my lord, yet had I not dwelt in the humble hamlet, I might never have known the pure loyalty of English hearts."

"By our Lady, thou hast a better alchemy than thy clerkly brother, the Castilian monarch, for his science finds only _gold_ in everything, while thy diviner art finds _good_ in all, and loyalty in outlaws."

"I remember me," replied Eleanora, with an arch smile, "there was a gallant outlaw, in whom my woman's heart discerned every n.o.ble and knightly quality. But small credit can I claim for my science, since it was the alchemy of love that revealed his virtues."

"No other alchemy hath e'er found good in man, and, sinner as I am, I might fear the judgment of thy purity, did not the same sweet charity that discovers undeveloped virtues trans.m.u.te even errors into promises of good.

To-morrow, G.o.d willing, it will be in Edward's power to const.i.tute Eleanora the dispenser of bounty. Whom would she first delight to honor?"

"Since the prince of outlaws puts it in my power," said Eleanora, with a look of grateful affection, "I would e'en reward those bold foresters who delivered my Edward from the enemies that sought his life."

"Thou sayest well, dearest," replied Edward, "and now that thou remindest me of my escape from thraldom, I pray our Lady of Walsingham aid me to discharge an obligation that hath long laid heavy on my conscience.

Yesternight, methought I saw, among the yeomen busy in the preparations for the approaching pageant, the tall outlaw, who, in his gown and cowl, one moment gave me priestly benizon, and the next, advised me of Leicester's movements, with the sagacity of a practised warrior. Such length of limb and strength of arm, once seen, does not escape my memory; and, if my eye deceive me not, 'twas he, with Courtenay, who led the a.s.sault at Nazareth; and furthermore, it runneth in my mind, that I have seen him elsewhere and in other guise."

"Mayhap it was the tall knight who defended Eleanora at the Jews'

ma.s.sacre, till thy arrival dispersed the rabble mob," returned the queen.

"By the soul of St. Bartholomew thou divinest well," said the king; "and, since thou knowest the monk, perhaps thou canst give me tidings concerning the shrewd-witted boy, who managed to gain speech with me, when all my partisans had failed. So fair a squire must, ere this, have earned the spurs of knighthood; and much would it pleasure me, to lay the accolade upon his shoulder, in return for his dextrous plotting. That the lad pertained not to the household of Mortimer, I knew right well; but whether he were a retainer of the bold outlaw who organized the royal forces, or some young n.o.ble whose love of adventure set him upon the work, I could never yet decide."

"And if he were retainer of the outlaw?" said Eleanora, inquiringly.

"My grat.i.tude should none the less reward the service of one who risked his life for mine," replied the king.

A smile of satisfaction beamed on the countenance of Eleanora, and opening her gypsire, and taking thence the small ivory whistle, she despatched an attendant with the token to Eva.

Shortly after, the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of an attendant, who announced that a page from Lady Mortimer craved an audience of his majesty.

"Let him be at once admitted," said Edward, casting a significant glance at Eleanora.

The door was thrown open, and the beautiful boy, whose image at that moment filled the mind of the king, entered with trembling step, and proceeding straight to the monarch, knelt at his feet, and with clasped hands began to plead earnestly for the pardon of the banished Earl Dermot de la Clare.

"How is this?" exclaimed Edward, gazing with astonishment, first upon the kneeling page, and then upon his wife. "How is this? by the Holy Rood, my heart misgives me, thou art witch as well as alchemist. Here is the identical page I have vainly sought for nine long years, conjured up by the magic of an ivory whistle."

"Earl Dermot de la Clare!" said he to Eva, lifting the boy tenderly from his knees, "why has the banished outlaw sought thy fair lips to plead his cause? Let himself present his claims to our clemency, and we will promise justice for ourself, and perchance a better guerdon from our loving spouse, who would ever have mercy rejoice above judgment.

"And thou, sweet dove," said he, gazing admiringly upon the doubting Eva, "'who wearest the badge of Mortimer,' and whose 'giddy brain recks not of politics,' demandest manor and lordship for an outlawed man! Didst crave it for thyself, not twice the boon could make me say thee nay."

"'Tis for myself I crave the boon, royal liege," said Eva, falling again upon her knees. "Dermot de la Clare is the sire of thy poor orphan charge."

"Thy sire!" exclaimed the prince, greatly moved. "How knowest thou this?"

"First, by the story of the rescued sailor, who was one of the band with which my father thought to regain possession of his fief, when the act of attainder had branded him an outlaw. He it was with the cartman's frock, who waited our coming at the cross-road on the memorable day of my lord's escape. Next, by the shamrock, the ancient cognizance of the house of Strongbow, and by the rose of Sharon, which my mother wrought upon the scarf in memory of her husband's pilgrimage. But Eva finds the strongest proof in the promptings of her heart; for from the day since she rested in his arms at London bridge, to the time when he drew her from the Vulture's Nest at Mount Lebanon, she hath trusted in his love, and obeyed his bidding, with such confidence as none but a father could inspire."

"Thy eloquence hath proved thy cause," said the king, raising her and seating her by his side; "and were I a needy knight, requiring royal favor, I'd bribe thy pleading eyes to back my suit, and never fear denial."

Eva essayed to stammer forth her thanks, but tears choked her utterance, and Eleanora, pitying her confusion, rea.s.sured her with playful allusions to her childish aspirations for the sovereignty of Ireland.

"I fear me," said Edward, gazing upon her varying color with admiration, "that to reward all my subjects and va.s.sals, according to their merit, will exhaust my exchequer. The audacity of these benefactors exceeds all belief! It was but this morning that one more bold than his fellows demanded the fairest flower of our court as a recompense for his knightly service in the eastern campaign."

The conscious Eva looked imploringly at her mistress, who graciously accorded her permission to depart, while Edward continued his raillery.

"I referred the gallant unto thee, love," said he, "for he must be a brave man who dares transfer the possessions of his wife."

"To the marriage of de Courtenay with our beautiful ward," returned the queen, "there riseth but one objection. From the similarity of her name, she ever fancied herself the heiress of the former King of Leinster, and hath cultivated a taste for decorations befitting royalty. I fear me that Sir Henry, being but the younger branch of his house, will scarce be able to maintain a state suited to her desires."

"G.o.d grant she have not the ambition of Earl Strigul, else might we find it necessary to do battle for our fief of Ireland," said Edward.

"Nay, from the ambition of Eva, thou hast nought to fear; her heart would incline her rather to bestow benefices upon her friends, than to h.o.a.rd treasures for herself. Therefore it is that I desire for her worthy alliance and princely dower," returned the queen.