courteously you have treated me."

The arrangements were carried out.

An hour before daybreak Cuthbert was aroused, donned his armour and steel
casque, drank a flask of wine, and ate a manchet of bread which the
prior himself brought him; and then, with a cordial adieu to the kind
monks, issued forth.

The guide had just reached the gate, and together they trotted down the
narrow streets to the west gate of the city, where four men-at-arms were
awaiting them.

The gates were at once opened, and Cuthbert and his little troop
sallied forth.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ATTACK.

All day they rode with their faces west, and before nightfall had made a
journey of over forty miles. Then bestowing a largess upon the
men-at-arms, Cuthbert dismissed them, and took up his abode at a
hostelry, his guide looking to the two horses.

Cuthbert was pleased with the appearance of the man who had been placed
at his disposal. He was a young fellow of two-or-three-and-twenty, with
an honest face. He was, he told Cuthbert, the son of a small farmer near
Avignon; but having a fancy for trade, he had been apprenticed to a
master smith. Having served his apprenticeship, he found that he had
mistaken his vocation, and intended to return to the paternal vineyards.

Cuthbert calculated that he would make at least four days' journey to the
south before he could meet with any dangers. Doubtless his exit from the
convent had been discovered, and the moment the gates of the city were
opened the spy would have proceeded south to warn his comrades, and these
would doubtless have taken a road which at a distance would again take
them on to that by which Cuthbert would be now travelling. As, however,
he rode fast, and made long marches each day, he hoped that he might
succeed in distancing them. Unfortunately, upon the third day his horse
cast his shoe, and no smith could be met with until the end of the day's
journey. Consequently, but a short distance could be done, and this at a
slow pace. Upon the fifth day after their first start they arrived at a
small town.

The next morning, Cuthbert on rising found that his guide did not present
himself as usual. Making inquiries, he found that the young man had gone
out the evening before, and had not returned. Extremely uneasy at the
circumstance, Cuthbert went to the city guard, thinking that perhaps his
guide might have got drunk, and been shut up in the cells. No news,
however, was to be obtained there, and after waiting some hours, feeling
sure that some harm had befallen him, he gave notice to the authorities
of his loss, and then, mounting his horse, and leaving some money with
the landlord of the hostelry to give to his guide in case the latter
should return, he started at mid-day by the southern road.

He felt sure now that he was overtaken, and determined to keep his eyes
and faculties thoroughly on watch.

The roads in those days were mere tracks. Here and there a little
village was to be met with; but the country was sparsely cultivated, and
travelling lonely work. Cuthbert rode fast, carefully avoiding all copses
and small woods through which the road ran, by making a circuit round
them and coming on to it again on the other side.

His horse was an excellent one, the gift of the earl, and he had little
fear, with his light weight, of being overtaken, if he could once leave
his enemies behind him.

At length he approached an extensive forest, which stretched for miles on
either side.

Half a mile before he reached it the track divided.

He had for some little time eased his horse down to a walk, as he felt
that the wood would be the spot where he would in all probability be
attacked, and he needed that his steed should be possessed of its
utmost vigour.

At the spot where the track branched, a man in the guise of a mendicant
was sitting. He begged for alms, and Cuthbert threw him a small coin.

A sudden thought struck him as he heard a rustling in the bushes near.

"Which is the nearest and best road to Avignon?" he said.

"The right-hand road is the best and shortest," the beggar said. "The
other makes a long circuit, and leads through several marshes, which your
honour will find it hard to pass."

Cuthbert thanked him, and moved forward, still at a walk, along the
right-hand road.

When he had gone about 200 yards, and was hidden from the sight of the
man he had left--the country being rough, and scattered with clumps of
bushes--he halted, and, as he expected, heard the sound of horses' hoofs
coming on at full gallop along the other road.

"Your master must have thought me young indeed," he said, "to try and
catch me with such a transparent trick as that. I do not suppose that
accursed page has more than ten men with him, and doubtless has placed
five on each road. This fellow was placed here to see which track I would
follow, and has now gone to give the party on the left hand the news that
I have taken this way. Had it not been for him I should have had to run
the gauntlet with four or five of my enemies. As it is, the path will
doubtless be clear."

So saying, he turned his horse, galloped back to the spot where the
tracks separated, and then followed the left-hand route.

As he had hoped, he passed through the wood without incident or
interruption, and arrived safely that night at a small town, having seen
no signs of his enemies.

The next day he started again early, and rode on until mid-day, when he
halted at a large village, at which was the only inn between the place
from which he started and his destination. He declined the offer of the
servant of the inn to take his horse round to the stable, telling the
man to hold him outside the door and give him from a sieve a few
handfuls of grain.

Then he entered the inn and ate a hearty meal. As he appeared at the
door, he saw several men gathered near. With a single spring he threw
himself into the saddle, just as a rush forward was made by those
standing round. The man next to him sprang upon him, and endeavoured to
drag him from the saddle. Cuthbert drew the little dagger called a
Mis‚ricorde from his belt, and plunged it into his throat. Then seizing
the short mace which hung at the saddle bow, he hurled it with all his
force full in the face of his enemy, the page of Sir Philip, who was
rushing upon him sword in hand. The heavy weapon struck him fairly
between the eyes, and with a cry he fell back, his face completely
smashed in by the blow, the sword which he held uplifted to strike flying
far through the air.

Cuthbert struck his spurs into his horse, and the animal dashed forward
with a bound, Cuthbert striking with his long sword at one or two men who
made a snatch at the reins. In another minute he was cantering out of
the village, convinced that he had killed the leader of his foes, and
that he was safe now to pursue the rest of his journey on to Marseilles.

So it turned out.

Without further incident, he travelled through the south of France, and
arrived at the great seaport. He speedily discovered the quarters in
which the Earl of Evesham's contingent were encamped, and made towards
this without delay. As he entered a wild shout of joy was heard, and Cnut
ran forward with many gestures of delight.

"My dear Cuthbert, my dear Cuthbert!" he exclaimed. "Can it be true that
you have escaped? We all gave you up; and although I did my best, yet had
you not survived it I should never have forgiven myself, believing that I
might have somehow done better, and have saved you from the cut-throats
who attacked us."

"Thanks, thanks, my good Cnut," Cuthbert cried. "I have been through a
time of peril, no doubt; but as you see, I am hale and well--better,
methinks than you are, for you look pale and ill; and I doubt not that
the wound which I received was a mere scratch to that which bore you
down. It sounded indeed like the blow of a smith's hammer upon an anvil."

"Fortunately, my steel cap saved my head somewhat," Cnut said, "and the
head itself is none of the thinnest; but it tried it sorely, I confess.
However, now that you are back I shall, doubt not, soon be as strong as
ever I was. I think that fretting for your absence has kept me back more
than the inflammation from the wound itself--but there is the Earl at the
door of his tent."

Through the foresters and retainers who had at Cnut's shout of joy
crowded up, Cuthbert made his way, shaking hands right and left with the
men, among whom he was greatly loved, for they regarded him as being in a
great degree the cause of their having been freed from outlawry, and
restored to civil life again. The earl was really affected. As Cuthbert
rode up he held out both arms, and as his page alighted he embraced him
as a father.

"My dear Cuthbert!" he exclaimed. "What anxiety have we not suffered. Had
you been my own son, I could not have felt more your loss. We did not
doubt for an instant that you had fallen into the hands of some of the
retainers of that villain Count; and from all we could learn, and from
the absence of any dead body by the side of that of Cnut, I imagined that
you must have been carried off. It was clear that your chance of life, if
you fell into the hands of that evil page, or his equally vile master,
was small indeed. The very day that Cnut was brought in, I visited the
French camp, and accused him of having been the cause of your
disappearance and Cnut's wounds. He affected the greatest astonishment at
the charge. He had not, as he said, been out of the camp for two days. My
accusation was unfounded and malicious, and I should answer this as well
as the previous outrage, when the vow of the Crusaders to keep peace
among themselves was at an end. Of course I had no means of proving what
I said, or I would have gone direct to the king and charged him with the
outrage. As it was I gained nothing by my pains. He has accompanied this
French division to Genoa; but when we meet at Sicily, where the two
armies are to rendezvous, I will bring the matter before the king, as the
fact that his page was certainly concerned in it must be taken as showing
that he was the instigator."

"It would, my lord earl, be perhaps better," Cuthbert said, "if I
might venture to advise, to leave the matter alone. No doubt the count
would say that he had discharged his page after the tournament, and
that the latter was only carrying out his private feud with me. We
should not be able to disprove the story, and should gain no
satisfaction by the matter."

The earl admitted the justice of Cuthbert's reasoning, but reserved to
himself the task of punishing the author of the outrage upon the first
fitting opportunity.

There was a weary delay at Marseilles before the expedition set sail.
This was caused by the fact of the English fleet, which had been ordered
to be there upon their arrival, failing to keep the agreement.

The words English fleet badly describe the vessels which were to carry
the English contingent to their destination. They were ships belonging to
the maritime nations of Italy--the Venetians, Genoese, Pisans, etc.; for
England at that time had but few of her own, and these scarcely fitted
for the stormy navigation of the Bay of Biscay.

King Richard, impatient as ever of delay, at last lost his temper, and
embarked on board a ship with a few of his chosen knights, and set sail
by himself for Sicily, the point at which the two armies of the
expedition were to re-unite. A few days after his departure, the
long-looked-for fleet arrived, and a portion of the English host embarked
at once, and set sail for Sicily, where they were to be landed, and the
ships were to return to fetch the remaining contingent.

A sea voyage of this kind in those days was a serious matter. Long
voyages were rare, and troops were carried very much upon the principle
of herrings; that is, were packed as close as they could be, without any
reference to their comfort. As the voyages seldom lasted more than
twenty-four hours, this did not much matter, but during long voyages the
discomforts, or as may be said sufferings, of the troops were
considerable. So tightly packed were the galleys in which the English set
sail from Marseilles, that there was no walking about. Every man slept
where he sat, and considered himself lucky indeed if he could obtain room
sufficient to stretch himself at full length. Most slept sitting against
bulwarks or other supports. In the cabins, where the knights, their pages
and squires, were placed, the crowding was of course less excessive, but
even here the amount of space, which a subaltern travelling to India for
the first time now-a-days would grumble at, was considered amply
sufficient for half-a-dozen knights of distinction. It was a week after
sailing, when Cnut touched Cuthbert's arm as he came on deck one morning,
and said,--

"Look, look, Cuthbert! that mountain standing up in the water has caught
fire on the top. Did you ever see such a thing?"

The soldiers crowded to the side of the vessel, in intense astonishment
and no little awe. From the top of a lofty and rugged hill, rising almost
straight from the sea, flames were roaring up, smoke hung over the
island, and stones were thrown into the air and rattled down the side of
the hill, or fell into the sea with a splash.

"That is a fearsome sight," Cnut said, crossing himself.

"It looks as if it was the mouth of purgatory," exclaimed another,
standing by.

Cuthbert himself was amazed, for the instruction he had received from
Father Francis was of too slight a nature to include the story of
volcanoes. A priest, however, who accompanied the ship in the character
of leech and confessor, explained the nature of the phenomenon to his
astonished listeners, and told them that over on the mainland was a
mountain which at times vomited forth such masses of stones and of
liquid rock that it had swallowed up and covered many great cities. There
was also, he told them, another mountain of the same sort, even more
vast, on the island of Sicily itself; but that this had seldom, as far
back as man could remember, done any great harm.

Sailing on, in another day they arrived off the coast of Sicily itself,
and sailing up the straits between it and the mainland, they landed at
Messina. Here a considerable portion of the French army had already
arrived, having been brought down from Genoa.

There was no news of the King of England; and, as often happens, the
saying "the more haste the less speed," had been verified here.

It was some days later before King Richard arrived, having been driven
from his course by tempests, well-nigh cast ashore, and having besides
gone through many adventures. Three weeks later, the whole of the army of
the Crusaders were gathered around Messina, where it was intended to
remain some little time before starting. It was a gay time; and the
kings vied with each other in entertainments, joustings, and tournaments.
The Italian knights also made a brave show, and it might have been
thought that this huge army of men were gathered there simply for
amusement and feasting. In the tournaments every effort was made to
prevent any feeling of national rivalry, and although parties of knights
held their own against all comers, these were most carefully selected to
represent several nationalities, and therefore victory, on whichsoever
side it fell, excited no feelings of bitterness.

Alone, King Richard was undoubtedly the strongest cavalier of the two
armies. Against his ponderous strength no knight could keep his seat; and
this was so palpable, that after many victories, King Richard was forced
to retire from the lists from want of competitors, and to take his place
on the dais with the more peace-loving King of France.

The gaiety of the camp was heightened by the arrival of many nobles and
dames from Italy. Here, too, came the Queen of Navarre, bringing with her
the beautiful Princess Berengaria.

"Methinks," the Earl of Evesham said to Cuthbert, a fortnight after the
arrival of the queen, "that unless my eyes deceive me, the princess is
likely to be a cause of trouble."

"In what way?" asked Cuthbert with surprise, for he had been struck with
her marvellous beauty, and wondered greatly what mischief so fair a
being could do.

"By the way in which our good lord, the king, gazes upon her, methinks
that it were like enough that he broke off his engagement with the
Princess of France, for the sake of the fair eyes of this damsel."

"That were indeed a misfortune," Cuthbert said gravely, for he saw at
once the anger which such a course would excite in the minds of the
French king and his knights, who would naturally be indignant in the
extreme at the slight put upon their princess. As day after day passed,
it became evident to all that the King of England was infatuated by the
princess. Again he entered the lists himself, and as some fresh Italian
knights and others had arrived, he found fresh opponents, and
conspicuously laid the spoils of victory at the feet of the princess,
whom he selected as the Queen of Beauty.

All sorts of rumours now became current in camp; violent quarrels between
the kings, and bad feeling between the French and English knights, broke
out again in consequence, and this more violently than before.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PRINCESS BERENGARIA.

One night it chanced that Cuthbert was late in his return to camp, and
his road took him through a portion of the French encampment; the night
was dark, and Cuthbert presently completely lost all idea as to his
bearings. Presently he nearly ran against a tent; he made his way to the
entrance in order to crave directions as to his way--for it was a wet
night; the rain was pouring in torrents, and few were about of whom he
could demand the way--and, as he was about to draw aside the hangings, he
heard words said in a passionate voice which caused him to withdraw his
hand suddenly.

"I tell you," said a voice, "I would rather drive a dagger myself into
her heart, than allow our own princess to be insulted by this hot-headed
island dog."

"It is sad indeed," said another, but in a calmer and smoother tone,
"that the success of a great expedition like this, which has for its
object the recovery of the holy sepulchre from the infidels, should be
wrecked by the headstrong fancies of one man. It is even, as is told by
the old Grecian poet, as when Helen caused a great war between peoples of
that nation."

"I know nothing," another voice said, "either of Helen or the Greeks, or
of their poets. They are a shifty race, and I can believe aught that is
bad of them. But touching this princess of Navarre, I agree with our
friend, it would be a righteous deed to poniard her, and so to remove the
cause of dispute between the two kings, and, indeed, the two nations.
This insult laid upon our princess is more than we, as French knights and
gentlemen, can brook; and if the king says the word, there is not a
gentleman in the army but will be ready to turn his sword against the
islanders."

Then the smooth voice spoke again.

"It would, my brethren, be wrong and useless to shed blood; but methinks,
that if this apple of discord could be removed, a good work would be
done; not, as our friend the count has suggested, by a stab of the
dagger; that indeed would be worse than useless. But surely there are
scores of religious houses, where this bird might be placed in a cage
without a soul knowing where she was, and where she might pass her life
in prayer that she may be pardoned for having caused grave hazards of the
failure of an enterprise in which all the Christian world is concerned."

The voices of the speakers now fell, and Cuthbert was straining his ear
to listen, when he heard footsteps approaching the tent, and he glided
away into the darkness.

With great difficulty he recovered the road to the camp, and when he
reached his tent he confided to the Earl of Evesham what he had heard.

"This is serious indeed," the earl said, "and bodes no little trouble
and danger. It is true that the passion which King Richard has conceived
for Berengaria bids fair to wreck the Crusade, by the anger which it has
excited in the French king and his nobles; but the disappearance of the
princess would no less fatally interfere with it, for the king would be
like a raging lion deprived of his whelps, and would certainly move no
foot eastward until he had exhausted all the means in his power of
tracing his lost lady love. You could not, I suppose, Cuthbert, point out
the tent where this conversation took place?"

"I could not," Cuthbert answered; "in the darkness one tent is like
another. I think I should recognize the voices of the speakers did I hear
them again; indeed, one voice I did recognize, it was that of the Count
of Brabant, with whom we had trouble before."

"That is good," the earl said, "because we have at least an object to
watch. It would never do to tell the king what you have heard. In the
first place, his anger would be so great that it would burst all
bounds, and would cause, likely enough, a battle at once between the
two armies; nor would it have any good effect, for he of Brabant would
of course deny the truth of your assertions, and would declare it was
merely a got-up story to discredit him with the king, and so to wipe
out the old score now standing between us. No, if we are to succeed,
alike in preventing harm happening to the princess, and an open break
between the two monarchs, it must be done by keeping a guard over the
princess, unsuspected by all, and ourselves frustrating any attempt
which may be made."

Cuthbert expressed his willingness to carry out the instructions which
the earl might give him; and, much disturbed by the events of the day,
both earl and page retired to rest, to think over what plan had best
be adopted.

The princess was staying at the palace of the bishop of the town; this
he, having another residence a short distance outside the walls, had
placed at the disposal of the Queen of Navarre and her suite; and the
first step of Cuthbert in the morning was to go into the town, to
reconnoitre the position and appearance of the building. It was a large
and irregular pile, and communicated with the two monasteries lying
alongside of it. It would therefore clearly be a most difficult thing to
keep up a complete watch on the exterior of so large a building. There
were so many ways in which the princess might be captured and carried off
by unscrupulous men, that Cuthbert in vain thought over every plan by
which it could be possible to safeguard her. She might be seized upon
returning from a tournament or entertainment; but this was improbable, as
the queen would always have an escort of knights with her, and no attempt
could be successful except at the cost of a public fracas and much loss
of blood. Cuthbert regarded as out of the question that an outrage of
this kind would be attempted.

The fact that one of the speakers in the tent had used the words "my
sons," showed that one priest or monk, at least, was connected with the
plot. It was possible that this man might have power in one of the
monasteries, or he might be an agent of the bishop himself; and
Cuthbert saw that it would be easy enough in the night for a party from
one or other of the monasteries to enter by the door of communication
with the palace, and carry off the princess without the slightest alarm
being given. Once within the walls of the convent, she could be either
hidden in the dungeons or secret places, which buildings of that kind
were sure to possess, or could be at once carried out by some quiet
entrance, and taken into the country, or transferred to some other
building in the town.

When Cuthbert joined the earl he told him the observations that he had
made, and Sir Walter praised the judgment which he had shown in his
conclusions. The earl was of opinion that it would be absolutely
necessary to get some clue as to the course which the abductors purposed
to take; indeed it was possible that on after-consideration they might
drop their plan altogether, for the words which Cuthbert had overheard
scarcely betokened a plan completely formed and finally decided upon.

The great point he considered, therefore, was that the tent of his old
enemy should be carefully watched, and that an endeavour should be made
to hear something of what passed within, which might give a clue to the
plan fixed upon. They did not, of course, know whether the tent in
which the conversation had been heard by Cuthbert was that of Sir de
Jacquelin Barras, or of one of the other persons who had spoken; and
Cuthbert suggested that the first thing would be to find out whether
the count, after nightfall, was in the habit of going to some other
tent, or whether, on the other hand, he remained within, and was
visited by others.

It was easy, of course, to discover which was his tent; and Cuthbert soon
got its position, and then took Cnut into his counsels.

"The matter is difficult," Cnut said, "and I see no way by which a watch
can be kept up by day; but after dark--I have several men in my band who
can track a deer, and surely could manage to follow the steps of this
baron without being observed. There is little Jack, who is no bigger than
a boy of twelve, although he can shoot, and run, and play with the
quarter-staff, or, if need be, with the bill, against the best man in the
troop. I warrant me that if you show him the tent, he will keep such
sharp watch that no one shall enter or depart without his knowing where
they go to. On a dark night he will be able to slip among the tents, and
to move here and there without being seen. He can creep on his stomach
without moving a leaf, and trust me the eyes of these French men-at-arms
will look in vain for a glimpse of him."

"You understand, Cnut, all that I want to know is whether the
other conspirators in this matter visit his tent, or whether he
goes to theirs."

"I understand," Cnut said. "That is the first point to be arrived at."

Three days later Cnut brought news that each night after dark a party of
five men met in the tent that was watched; that one of the five always
came out when all had assembled, and took his station before the entrance
of the tent, so as to be sure that no eavesdropper was near.

Cuthbert smiled,--

"It is a case of locking the door after the horse has gone."

"What is to be done now?" Cnut asked.

"I will talk with the earl before I tell you, Cnut. This matter is too
serious for me to take a step without consulting Sir Walter."

That night there was a long talk between the earl and his page as to the
best course to be pursued. It was clear that their old enemy was the
leading person in the plot, and that the only plan to baffle it with any
fair chances of success was to keep a constant eye upon his movements,
and also to have three or four of the sturdiest men of the band told off
to watch, without being perceived, each time that the princess was in
her palace.

The Earl of Evesham left the arrangements entirely in the hands of his
page, of whose good sense and sagacity he had a very high opinion.

His own first impulse had been to go before the king and denounce the
Count of Brabant. But the ill-will between them was already well known;
for not only was there the original dispute at the banquet, but when the
two armies had joined at Sicily, King Richard, who had heard from the
earl of the attempt at the assassination of Cuthbert, had laid a
complaint before King Phillip of the conduct of his subject.

Sir de Jacquelin Barras, however, had denied that he had any finger in
the matter.

"He had," he said, "discharged his page after the encounter with
Cuthbert, and knew nothing further whatever of his movements."

Although it was morally certain that the page could not have purchased
the services of the men who assisted him, from his own purse, or gain
them by any means of persuasion, but that they were either the followers
of the Count of Brabant, or ruffians hired with his money, as no proof
could be obtained, the matter was allowed to drop.

The earl felt, however, that an accusation against the count by him of an
intention to commit a high crime, and this merely on the evidence of his
page, would appear like an attempt to injure the fair fame of his rival.

Feeling, therefore, that nothing could be done save to watch, he left
the matter entirely in the hands of his page, telling him that he
could take as many men-at-arms or archers as he might choose and use
them in his name.

Cnut entered warmly into Cuthbert's plans; and finally it was arranged
between them that six of the archers should nightly keep watch opposite
the various entrances of the bishop's palace and of the two monasteries
joining. Of course they could not patrol up and down without attracting
attention, but they were to take up posts where they could closely
observe the entrances, and were either to lie down and feign drunken
sleep, or to conceal themselves within the shadow of an arch or other
hiding-place.

Down on the sea-shore, Cuthbert made an arrangement with one of the
owners of small craft lying there that ten of his men should sleep on
board every night, together with some fishermen accustomed to the use
of the oar.

Cuthbert himself determined to be always with this party.

Night after night passed, and so long a time went by that Cuthbert began
to think the design must have been given up.

However, he resolved to relax none of his watchfulness during the
remaining time that the expedition might stop in Sicily.

It was in January, three weeks after the first watch had been set, when
one of the men who had been placed to watch the entrance to one of the
monasteries, leapt on board the craft and shook Cuthbert by the shoulder.

"A party of some five men," he said, "have just issued out from the
monastery. They are bearing a burden--what, I cannot see. They were
making in the direction of the water. I whistled to Dick, who was
next to me in the lane. He is following them, and I came on to tell
you to prepare."

The night was pitch dark, and it was difficult in the extreme to see any
one moving at a short distance off.

There were two or three streets that led from the monastery, which stood
at the top of the town, towards the sea; and a party coming down might
take any of these, according to the position in which the boat they were
seeking was placed.

Cuthbert now instantly sent five or six of his men, with instructions to
avoid all noise, along the line of the port, with orders to bring in
word should any one come down and take boat, or should they hear any
noise in the town.

He himself with the sailors loosed the ropes which fastened the boat to
shore, got out the oars, and prepared to put off at a moment's notice.

He was of course ignorant whether the abductors would try to carry the
princess off by water, or would hide her in one of the convents of the
town; but he was inclined to think that the former would be the course
adopted; for the king in his wrath would be ready to lay the town in
flames, and to search every convent from top to bottom for the princess.
Besides, there would be too many aware of the secret.

Cuthbert was not wrong in his supposition.

Soon the man he had sent to the extreme right came running up with the
news that a boat had embarked at the farther end, with a party of some
ten men on board. As he came along he had warned the others, and in five
minutes the whole party were collected in the craft, numbering in all
twelve of Cuthbert's men and six sailors. They instantly put out, and
rowed in the direction in which the boat would have gone, the boatmen
expressing their opinion that probably the party would make for a vessel
which was lying anchored at some little distance from shore. The bearings
of the position of this ship was known to the boatmen, but the night was
so dark that they were quite unable to find it. Orders had been given
that no sound or whisper was to be heard on board the boat; and after
rowing as far as they could, the boatmen said they were in the direction
of the ship.

The boatmen all lay on their oars, and all listened intently.
Presently the creaking of a pulley was heard in the still night, at a
distance of a few hundred yards. This was enough. It was clear that
the vessel was getting up sail. The boat's head was turned in that
direction; the crew rowed steadily but noiselessly, and in a few
minutes the tall mast of a vessel could be seen faintly against the
sky. Just as they perceived the situation, a hail from on board showed
that their approach was now observed.

"Stretch to your oars," Cuthbert said, "we must make a dash for it now."

The rowers bent to their work and in a minute the boat ran alongside
the craft.

As Cuthbert and his followers scrambled upon the deck, they were attacked
by those of the crew and passengers who were standing near; but it was
evident at once that the chiefs of the expedition had not heard the hail,
and that there was no general plan of defence against them.

It was not until the last of them had gained a footing, and were
beginning to fight their way along the vessel, that from below three or
four men-at-arms ran up, and one in a tone of authority demanded what was
the matter. When he heard the clash of swords and the shouts of the
combatants, he put himself at once at the head of the party, and a fierce
and obstinate fight now took place.

The assailants had, however, the advantage.

Cuthbert and his men were all lightly clad, and this on the deck of a
ship lumbered with ropes and gear, and in the dark, was a great
advantage, for the mailed men-at-arms frequently stumbled and fell. The
fight lasted for several minutes. Cnut who was armed with a heavy mace,
did great service, for with each of his sweeping blows he broke down the
guard of an opponent, and generally levelled him to the deck.

The numbers at the beginning of the fight were not unequal, but the men
to whom the vessel belonged made but a faint resistance when they
perceived that the day was going against them. The men-at-arms, however,
consisting of three, who appeared to be the leaders, and of eight
pikemen, fought stubbornly and well.

Cuthbert was not long in detecting in the tones of the man who was
clearly at the head of affairs the voice of Sir de Jacquelin Barras. To
do him justice he fought with extreme bravery, and when almost all his
followers were cut down or beaten overboard, he resisted staunchly and
well. With a heavy two-handed sword he cleaved a space at the end of the
boat, and kept the whole of Cuthbert's party at bay.

At last Cnut, who had been engaged elsewhere, came to the front, and a
tough fight ensued between them.

It might have ended badly for the brave forester, for his lack of armour
gave an enormous advantage to his opponent. Soon, however, the count's
foot slipped on the boards of the deck, and before he could recover
himself the mace of Cnut descended with tremendous force upon his head,
which was unprotected, as he had taken off his casque on arriving at the
ship. Without a word or a cry the count fell forward on the deck, killed
as a bullock by a blow of a pole-axe.

While this conflict had been going on, occasionally the loud screams of a
woman had been heard below.

Cuthbert, attended by Cnut and two of his followers, now descended.

At the bottom of the steps they found a man-at-arms placed at the
door of a cabin. He challenged them as they approached, but being
speedily convinced that the vessel was in their hands, and that his
employer and party were all conquered, he made a virtue of necessity,
and laid down his arms.

"You had better go in alone," Cnut said, "Master Cuthbert. The lady is
less likely to be frightened by your appearance than by us, for she must
wonder indeed what is going on."

On entering the cabin, which had evidently been fitted up for the use of
a lady, Cuthbert saw standing at the other end the princess whom of
course he knew well by sight. A lamp was burning in the cabin, and by its
light he could see that her face was deadly pale. Her robes were torn and
disarranged, and she wore a look at once of grave alarm and surprise upon
seeing a handsomely dressed page enter with a deep reverence.

"What means this outrage, young sir? Whoever you be, I warn you that the
King of England will revenge this indignity."

"Your Highness," Cuthbert said, "you have no further reason for alarm;
the knaves who carried you off from the bishop's palace and conveyed you
to this ship are all either killed or in our power. I am the page of the
Earl of Evesham, a devoted follower of King Richard. Some of the designs
of the bold men came to the ears of my lord, and he ordered me and a band
of his followers to keep good guard over the palace and buildings
adjoining. We were unable to gather our strength in time to prevent your
being taken on board, but we lost no time in putting forth when we found
that your abductors had taken boat, and by good fortune arrived here in
time; a few minutes later, and the knaves would have succeeded in their
object, for the sails were already being hoisted, and the vessel making
way, when we arrived. Your abductors are all either killed or thrown
overboard, and the vessel's head is now turned towards the shore, and I
hope in a few minutes to have the honour of escorting you to the palace."

The princess, with a sigh of much satisfaction and relief, sank on
to a couch.

"I am indeed indebted to you, young sir," she said. "Believe me, the
Princess Berengaria is not ungrateful, and should it be ever in her power
to do aught for your lord, or for yourself, or for those who have
accompanied you to rescue her, believe me that she will do it."

"May I be so bold as to ask a boon?" Cuthbert said, dropping on one knee
before her.

"It is granted at once, whatever it be, if in my power."

"My boon is, lady," he said, "that you will do your best to assuage the
natural anger which the King of England will feel at this bold and most
violent attempt. That he should be told, is of course necessary; but,
lady, much depends upon the telling, and I am sure that at your request
the king would restrain his anger. Were it not for that, I fear that such
quarrels and disputes might arise as would bring the two armies to blows,
and destroy for ever all hope of the successful termination of our joint
enterprise."

"You are a wise and good youth," the princess said, holding out her hand
to Cuthbert, which, as in duty bound, he placed to his lips. "Your
request is wise and most thoughtful. I will use any poor influence which
I may possess"--and Cuthbert could see that the blood came back now to
the white face--"to induce King Richard to allow this matter to pass
over. There is no reason why he should take up the case. I am no more
under his protection than under that of the King of France, and it is to
the latter I should appeal, for as I believe the men who abducted me were
his subjects."

"The leader of them, madam, was a certain Sir de Jacquelin Barras, a
Count of Brabant, with whom my master has had an old feud, and who has
been just killed by the leader of our men-at-arms. The others, who have
had the most active hand in the matter, have also perished; and it would,
I think, be doubtful whether any clue could be obtained to those who were
in league with them. The only man in the party who is alive, was placed
as a sentry at your door, and as he is but a man-at-arms, we may be sure
that he knows nought of the enterprise, but has merely carried out the
orders of his master."

The vessel had by this time brought up close to the port. The princess
determined to wait on board until the first dawn was seen in the skies,
and then under the escort of her deliverers to go back to the palace,
before the town was moving. This plan was carried out, and soon after
dawn the princess was safe in the palace from which she had been carried
a few hours previously.

CHAPTER X.

PIRATES.

It was not possible that a matter of this sort could be entirely hushed
up. Not many hours passed before rumours were current of events which had
taken place, though none knew what those events were.

There were reports that the tire-woman of the Princess Berengaria had in
the night discovered that her mistress's couch was unoccupied, that she
had found signs of a struggle, and had picked up a dagger on the floor,
where it had evidently fallen from the sheath; also it was said, that the
princess had returned at daylight escorted by an armed party, and that
she was unable to obtain entrance to the palace until one of the ladies
of the queen had been fetched down to order the sentries at the gate to
allow her to enter.

This was the news which rumour carried through the camp. Few, however,
believed it, and none who could have enlightened them opened their lips
upon the subject.

It was known, however, that a messenger had come to King Richard early,
and that he had at once mounted, and ridden off to the bishop's palace.
What had happened there none could say, but there were rumours that his
voice had been heard in furious outbursts of passion. He remained there
until the afternoon, when he sent for a number of his principal nobles.

When these arrived, they found him standing on a da‹s in the principal
hall of the palace, and he there formally introduced to them the Princess
Berengaria as his affianced wife. The ceremony of the marriage, he told
them, would shortly take place.

This announcement caused a tremendous stir in both armies. The English,
who had never been favourable to the alliance with the French princess,
were glad to hear that this was broken off, and were well content that
the Princess Berengaria should be their future queen, for her beauty,
high spirit, and kindness had won all hearts.

On the part of the French, on the other hand, there was great
indignation, and for some time it was feared that the armies would come
to open blows.

King Phillip, however, although much angered, was politic enough to
deprecate any open outbreak. He knew that a dispute now began, would not
only at once put a stop to the Crusade, but that it might lead to more
serious consequences at home. The fiery bravery of the English king,
backed as it would be by the whole strength of his subjects, might render
him a very formidable opponent; and the king felt that private grievances
must be laid aside where the good of France was concerned.

Still the coldness between the armies increased, their camps were moved
further apart, and during the time that they remained in Sicily, there
was but little commerce between the two forces.

As soon as the winter had broken, the French monarch broke up his camp,
and in March sailed for the Holy Land.

The English had expected that the marriage ceremony of the king and
Princess Berengaria would be celebrated before they left Sicily, but this
was not the case. There were high joustings and fetes in honour of the
princess, but the marriage was delayed. A fortnight after the French had
sailed, the English embarked in the 200 ships, which had been prepared,
and sailed also on their way to Acre.

It must not be supposed that the attempted abduction of the Princess
Berengaria was unimportant in its results to Cuthbert.

After returning from the palace the king, who had heard from her the
details of what had taken place, and the names of her rescuers, sent for
the Earl of Evesham. The latter had of course learned from Cuthbert all
that had happened, and had expressed his high approval of his conduct,
and his gratification at the result.

"I learn, Sir Earl," said King Richard, "that it is to you that I am
indebted for the rescue of the princess. She tells me, that suspecting
some plot, you placed a guard around the bishop's palace, with a strong
body on the shore ready to rescue her from the hands of any who might
attempt to take her to sea."

"It is as you say, sire," replied the earl; "but the whole merit of the
affair rests upon my page, the lad whom you may remember as having fought
with and conquered the French page, and of whose conduct you then
approved highly. You may also remember that he escaped by some display of
bravery and shrewdness the further attempts to assassinate him, and your
Majesty was good enough to make a complaint to King Phillip of the
conduct of one of his nobles on that head. It seems that some two months
since, the lad in coming through the French camp at night missed his way,
and accidentally overheard a few words spoken in a voice which he
recognized as that of his enemy. The name of your Majesty being
mentioned, he deemed it his duty to listen, and thus discovered that a
plot was on foot for carrying off the princess. After consultation with
me, we agreed upon the course to be adopted, namely, to place sentries
round the bishop's palace and the buildings adjoining, who should follow
and bring word should she be taken to another place in town, while a band
was placed on the shore in readiness to interfere at once to prevent her
being carried away by sea. He undertook the management of all details,
having with him a trusty squire who commands my Saxon bowmen."

"For your own part I thank you, my lord," the king said, "and, believe
me, you shall not find Richard ungrateful. As to your page, he appears
brave and wise beyond his years. Were it not that I think that it would
not be good for him, and might attract some envy upon the part of
others, I would at once make him a knight. He already has my promise
that I will do so on the first occasion when he can show his prowess
upon the infidels. Bring him to me to-morrow, when the princess will be
here with the Queen of Navarre at a banquet. I would fain thank him
before her; and, although I have agreed--at the princess's earnest
solicitation--to take no further notice of the matter, and to allow it
to pass as if it had not been, yet I cannot forgive the treachery which
has been used, and, without letting all know exactly what has occurred,
would fain by my reception of your page, let men see that something of
great import has happened, of the nature of which I doubt not that
rumour will give some notion."

Upon the following day, therefore, Cuthbert to his confusion found
himself the centre of the royal circle. The king expressed himself to him
in the most gracious manner, patting him on the shoulder, and said that
he would be one day one of the best and bravest of his knights. The
princess and the Queen of Navarre gave him their hands to kiss; and
somewhat overwhelmed, he withdrew from the royal presence, the centre of
attention, and, in some minds, of envy.

Cnut too did not pass unrewarded.

His Majesty, finding that Cnut was of gentle Saxon blood, gave him a gold
chain in token of his favour, and distributed a heavy purse among the men
who had followed him.

When the British fleet, numbering 200 ships, set sail from Sicily, it was
a grand and martial sight. From the masts were the colours of England and
those of the nobles who commanded; while the pennons of the knights, the
bright plumes and mantles, the flash of armour and arms, made the decks
alive with light and colour.

The king's ship advanced in the van, and round him were the vessels
containing his principal followers. The Queen of Navarre and the
Princess Berengaria were with the fleet. Strains of music rose from the
waters, and never were the circumstances of war exhibited in a more
picturesque form.

For two days the expedition sailed on, and then a change of a sudden and
disastrous kind took place.

"What is all this bustle about?" Cuthbert said to Cnut. "The sailors are
running up the ladders, and all seems confusion."

"Methinks," said Cnut, "that we are about to have a storm. A few minutes
ago scarce a cloud was to be seen; now that bank over there has risen
half-way up the sky. The sailors are accustomed to these treacherous
seas, and the warnings which we have not noticed have no doubt been clear
enough to them." With great rapidity the sails of the fleet came down,
and in five minutes its whole aspect was changed; but quickly as the
sailors had done their work, the storm was even more rapid in its
progress. Some of the ships whose crews were slower or less skilful than
the others, were caught by the gale before they could get their sails
snug, and the great sheets of white canvas were blown from the bolt ropes
as if made of paper, and a blackness which could almost be felt, covered
the sea, the only light being that given by the frothing waters. There
was no longer any thought of order. Each ship had to shift for herself;
and each captain to do his best to save those under his charge, without
thought of what might befall the others.

In the ship which carried the Earl of Evesham's contingent, order and
discipline prevailed. The earl's voice had been heard at the first puff
of wind, shouting to the men to go below, save a few who might be of use
to haul at ropes. His standard was lowered, the bright flags removed from
the sides of the ship, the shields which were hanging over the bulwarks
were hurriedly taken below, and when the gale smote them, the ship was
trim, and in readiness to receive it. A few square yards of sail alone
were all that the captain had thought it prudent to keep spread, and in a
minute from the time she was struck the lofty hulk was tearing along
through the waters at a tremendous speed. Four of the best hands were
placed at the helm; and here the captain took his post.

The danger was now that in the darkness they might run against one of
their consorts. Even in the war of the elements they could hear from time
to time crashes as of vessels striking against each other, with shouts
and cries. Once or twice from the darkness ships emerged, close on one
hand or the other; but the steadiness of the captain in each case saved
the ship from collision.

As the storm continued, these glimpses of other vessels became more and
more rare, and the ship being a very fast sailer, the captain indulged
the hope that he was now clear of the rest of the fleet.

He now attempted to lie-to to the storm, but the wind was too strong.
The ships in those days too, were so high out of the water, and offered
in themselves such a target to the wind, that it was useless to adopt any
other maneuver than to run before it.

For two days and nights the tempest raged.

"What think you," the earl said to the captain, "of our position? Where
are we, and where will the course upon which we are running take us?"

"I cannot say with certainty," the captain said, "for the wind has
shifted several times. I had hoped to gain the shelter of Rhodes, but a
shift of wind bore us away from there, and I much fear that from the
direction in which we have been running we must be very nigh on the coast
of Africa."

"Pest!" the earl said. "That would indeed be a speedy end to our Crusade.
These Moors are pirates and cut-throats to a man; and even should we
avoid the risk of being dashed to pieces, we should end our lives as
slaves to one of these black infidels."

Three hours later, the captain's prophecies turned out right. Breakers
were seen in various points in front, and with the greatest difficulty
the vessel was steered through an opening between them; but in another
few minutes she struck heavily, one of her masts went over the side,
and she lay fast and immovable. Fortunately, the outside bank of sand
acted as a sort of breakwater; had she struck upon this, the good ship
would have gone to pieces instantly; but although the waves still
struck her with considerable force, the captain had good hope that she
would not break up. Darkness came on; the tempest seemed to lull. As
there was no immediate danger, and all were exhausted by the tossing
which they had received during the last forty-eight hours, the crew of
the "Rose" slept soundly.

In the morning the sun rose brilliantly, and there was no sign of the
great storm which had scattered the fleet of England. The shore was to be
seen at a distance of some four miles, It was low and sandy, with lofty
mountains in the distance. Far inland a white town with minaret and dome
could be seen.

"Know you where we are?" the earl asked.

"As far as I can tell," the captain said, "we have been driven up the bay
called the Little Syrtis--a place full of shoals and shallows, and
abounding with pirates of the worst kind."

"Think you that the ship has suffered injury?"

"Whether she has done so or not," the captain said, "I fear greatly that
she is fast in the sand, and even the lightening of all her cargo will
scarce get her off; but we must try at least."

"It is little time that we shall have to try, Master Captain," Cuthbert,
who was standing close, said. "Methinks those two long ships which are
putting out from that town will have something to say to that."

"It is too true," the captain said. "Those are the galleys of the Moorish
corsairs. They are thirty or forty oars, draw but little water, and will
be here like the wind."

"What do you advise?" asked the earl. "The balistas which you have upon
the poop can make but a poor resistance to boats that can row around us,
and are no doubt furnished with heavy machines. They will quickly
perceive that we are aground and defenceless, and will be able to plump
their bolts into us until they have knocked the good ship to pieces.
However, we will fight to the last. It shall not be said that the Earl of
Evesham was taken by infidel dogs and sold as a slave, without striking a
blow in his defence."

Cuthbert stood watching the corsairs, which were now rowing towards them
at all speed.

"Methinks, my lord," he said, presently, "if I might venture to give an
opinion, that we might yet trick the infidel."

"As how, Cuthbert?" the earl said. "Speak out; you know that I have great
faith in your sagacity."

"I think, sir," the page said, "that did we send all your men below,
leaving only the crew of the vessel on deck, they would take us for a
merchant ship which has been wrecked here, and exercise but little care
how they approach us. The men on deck might make a show of shooting once
or twice with the balistas. The pirates, disdaining such a foe, would row
alongside. Once there, we might fasten one or both to our side with
grapnels, and then, methinks, that English bill and bow will render us
more than a match for Moorish pirates, and one of these craft can
scarcely carry more men than we have. I should propose to take one of
them by force, and drive the pirates overboard; take possession of, if
possible, or beat off, her consort; and then take the most valuable
stores from the ship, and make our way as best we can to the north."

"Well thought of!" exclaimed the earl, cordially. "You have indeed
imagined a plan which promises well. What think you, captain?"

"I think, my lord," the Genoese said, "that the plan is an excellent one,
and promises every success. If your men will all go below, holding their
arms in readiness for the signal, mine shall prepare grapnels and ropes,
and the first of these craft which comes alongside they will lash so
securely to the "Rose" that I warrant me she gets not away."

These preparations were soon made.

The soldiers, who at first had been filled with apprehension at the
thought of slavery among the infidels, were now delighted at the prospect
of a struggle ending in escape.

The archers prepared their bows and arrows, and stood behind the
port-holes in readiness to pour a volley into the enemy; the men-at-arms
grasped their pikes and swords; while above, the sailors moved hither and
thither as if making preparations for defence, but in reality preparing
the grapnels and ropes.

One of the pirates was faster than the other, and soon coming within
reach, poured flights of javelins and stones upon the "Rose" from
powerful machines, which she carried in her bow.

The crew of the "Rose" replied with their crossbows and arrows
from the poop.

The corsair at first did not keep her course direct for the ship, but
rowed round her, shooting arrows and casting javelins. Then, apparently
satisfied that no great precaution need be observed with a feebly-manned
ship in so great a strait as the "Rose," they set up a wild cry of
"Allah!" and rowed towards her.

In two minutes the corsair was alongside of the "Rose," and the fierce
crew were climbing up her sides. As she came alongside the sailors cast
grapnels into her rigging, and fastened her to the "Rose;" and then aloud
shout of "Hurrah for England!" was heard; the ports opened, and a volley
of arrows was poured upon the astonished corsair; and from the deck above
the assailants were thrown back into the galley, and a swarm of heavily
armed men leapt down from the ship upon them.

Taken by surprise, and indeed outnumbered, the resistance of the corsairs
was but slight. In a close fierce mˆl‚e like this the light-armed Moors
had but little chance with the mail-clad English, whose heavy swords and
axes clove their defences at a blow. The fight lasted but three minutes,
and then the last of the corsairs was overboard.

The men who rowed the galley had uttered the most piercing cries while
this conflict had been raging. They were unable to take any part in
it, had they been disposed to do so, for they were all slaves chained
to the oars.

Scarcely had the conflict ended when the other galley arrived upon the
scene; but seeing what had happened, and that her consort had fallen into
the hands of the English, she at once turned her head, and rowed back
rapidly to the town from which she had come.

Among the slaves who rowed the galley were many white men, and their
cries of joy at their liberation greatly affected those who had thus
unexpectedly rescued them. Hammers were soon brought into requisition,
the shackles struck off them, and a scene of affecting joy took place.
The slaves were of all nationalities, but Italians and Spaniards, French
and Greeks, formed the principal part. There was no time, however, to be
lost; the arms and munitions of war were hastily removed from the "Rose,"
together with the most valuable of the stores.

The galley-slaves again took their places, and this time willingly, at
the oars, the places of the weakest being supplied by the English, whose
want of skill was made up by the alacrity with which they threw their
strength into the work; and in an hour from the time that the galley had
arrived alongside of the "Rose," her head was turned north, and with
sixty oars she was rowing at all speed for the mouth of the bay.

CHAPTER XI.

IN THE HOLY LAND.

As soon as the galley which had escaped reached the town from which it
had started, it with three others at once set out in pursuit; while from
a narrow creek two other galleys made their appearance.

There were a few words of question among the English whether to stop and
give battle to these opponents, or to make their way with all speed. The
latter counsel prevailed; the earl pointing out that their lives were now
scarcely their own, and that they had no right on their way to the holy
sepulchre to risk them unnecessarily.

Fortunately they had it in their hands to fight or escape, as they chose;
for doubly banked as the oars now were, there was little chance of the
enemy's galleys overtaking them. Gradually as they rowed to sea the
pursuing vessels became smaller and smaller to view, until at last they
were seen to turn about and make again for land.

After some consultation between the earl and the captain of the lost
ship, it was determined to make for Rhodes. This had been settled as a
halting-point for the fleet, and the earl thought it probable that the
greater portion of those scattered by the storm would rendezvous there.

So it proved; after a voyage, which although not very long was tedious,
owing to the number of men cramped up in so small a craft, they came
within sight of the port of Rhodes, and were greatly pleased at seeing a
perfect forest of masts there, showing that at least the greater portion
of the fleet had survived the storm.

This was indeed the fact, and a number of other single ships dropped in
during the next day or two.

There was great astonishment on the part of the fleet when the long swift
galley was seen approaching, and numerous conjectures were offered as to
what message the pirates could be bringing--for there was no mistaking
the appearance of the long, dangerous-looking craft.

When, upon her approach, the standard of the Earl of Evesham was seen
flying on the bow, a great shout of welcome arose from the fleet; and
King Richard himself, who happened to be on the deck of the royal ship,
shouted to the earl to come on board and tell him what masquerading he
was doing there. The earl of course obeyed the order, anchoring near the
royal vessel, and going on board in a small boat, taking with him his
page and squire.

The king heard with great interest the tale of the adventures of the
"Rose"; and when the Earl of Evesham said that it was to Cuthbert that
was due the thought of the stratagem by which the galley was captured,
and its crew saved from being carried away into hopeless slavery, the
king patted the boy on the shoulder with such hearty force as nearly to
throw Cuthbert off his feet.

"By St. George!" said the monarch, "you are fated to be a very pink of
knights. You seem as thoughtful as you are brave; and whatever your age
may be, I declare that the next time your name is brought before me I
will call a chapter of knights, and they shall agree that exception shall
be made in your favour, and that you shall at once be admitted to the
honourable post. You will miss your page, Sir Walter; but I am sure you
will not grudge him that."

"No, no, sire," said the earl. "The lad, as I have told your Majesty, is
a connexion of mine--distant, it is true, but one of the nearest I
have--and it will give me the greatest pleasure to see him rising so
rapidly, and on a fair way to distinguish himself highly. I feel already
as proud of him as if he were my own son."

The fleet remained some two or three weeks at Rhodes, for many of the
vessels were sorely buffeted and injured, masts were carried away as well
as bulwarks battered in, and the efforts of the crews and of those of the
whole of the artificers of Rhodes were called into requisition. Light
sailing craft were sent off in all directions, for the king was in a
fever of anxiety. Among the vessels still missing was that which bore the
Queen of Navarre and the fair Berengaria.

One day a solitary vessel was seen approaching.

"Another of our lost sheep," the earl said, looking out over the poop.

She proved, however, to be a merchant ship of Greece, and newly come
from Cyprus.

Her captain went on board the royal ship, and delivered message to the
king, to the effect that two of the vessels had been cast upon the coast
of Cyprus, that they had been plundered by the people, the crews
ill-treated and made prisoners by the king, and that the Queen of Navarre
and the princess were in their hands.

This roused King Richard into one of his furies.

"Before I move a step towards the Holy Land," he said, "I will avenge
these injuries upon this faithless and insolent king. I swear that I will
make him pay dearly for having laid a hand upon these ladies."

At once the signal was hoisted for all the vessels in a condition to sail
to take on board water and provisions, and to prepare to sail for Cyprus;
and the next morning at daybreak the fleet sailed out, and made their way
towards that island, casting anchor off the harbour of Famagosta.

King Richard sent a messenger on shore to the king, ordering him at once
to release the prisoners; to make the most ample compensation to them; to
place ships at their service equal to those which had been destroyed;
and to pay a handsome sum of money as indemnity.

The King of Cyprus, however, an insolent and haughty despot, sent back a
message of defiance. King Richard at once ordered the anchors to be
raised, and all to follow the royal ship.

The fleet entered the harbour of Famagosta; the English archers began the
fight by sending a flight of arrows into the town. This was answered from
the walls by a shower of stones and darts from the machines.

There was no time wasted. The vessels were headed towards the shore, and
as the water was deep, many of them were able to run close alongside the
rocky wharves. In an instant, regardless of the storm of weapons poured
down by the defenders, the English leapt ashore.

The archers kept up so terrible a rain of missiles against the
battlements that the defenders could scarcely show themselves for an
instant there, and the men-at-arms, placing ladders against them,
speedily mounted, and putting aside all opposition, poured into the town.
The effeminate Greek soldiers of the monarch could offer no effectual
resistance whatever, and he himself fled from the palace and gained the
open country, followed by a few adherents. The English gained a
considerable booty, for in those days a town taken by assault was always
looked upon as the property of the captors. The Queen of Navarre and the
princess were rescued.

King Richard, however, was not satisfied with the success he had
gained, and was determined to punish this insolent little king.
Accordingly the English were set in motion into the interior, and town
after town speedily fell, or opened their gates to him. The king,
deserted by his troops, and detested by his people for having brought
so terrible a scourge upon them by his reckless conduct, now sued for
peace; but King Richard would give him no terms except dethronement,
and this he was forced to accept. He was deprived of his crown, and
banished from the island.

The king now, to the surprise of his barons, announced his intention of
at once marrying the Princess Berengaria.

Popular as he was, there was yet some quiet grumbling among his troops;
as they said, with justice, they had been waiting nearly six months in
the island of Sicily, and the king might well have married there, instead
of a fresh delay being caused when so near their place of destination.

However, the king as usual had his own way, and the marriage was
solemnized amidst great rejoicing and solemnity.

It was a brilliant scene indeed in the cathedral of Limasol. There were
assembled all the principal barons of England, together with a great
number of the nobles of Cyprus.

Certainly no better matched pair ever stood at the altar together, for
as King Richard was one of the strongest and bravest men of his own or
any other time, so Berengaria is admitted to have been one of the
loveliest maidens.

The air was rent with the acclamations of the assembled English host
and of the numerous inhabitants of Limasol as they emerged from the
cathedral. For a fortnight the town was given up to festivity;
tournaments, joustings, banquets succeeded each other day after day,
and the islanders, who were fond of pleasure, and indeed very wealthy,
vied with the English in the entertainments which they gave in honour
of the occasion.

The festivities over, the king gave the welcome order to proceed on their
voyage. They had now been joined by all the vessels left behind at
Rhodes, and it was found that only a few were missing, and that the great
storm, terrible as it had been, had inflicted less damage upon the fleet
than was at first feared.

Two days' sail brought them within sight of the white walls of Acre, and
it was on the 8th of June, 1191, that the fleet sailed into the port of
that town. Tremendous acclamations greeted the arrival of the English
army by the host assembled on the shores.

Acre had been besieged for two years, but in vain; and even the arrival
of the French army under Phillip Augustus had failed to turn the scale.
The inhabitants defended themselves with desperate bravery; every assault
upon the walls had been repulsed with immense slaughter; and at no great
distance off the Sultan Saladin, with a large army, was watching the
progress of the siege.

The fame of King Richard and the English was so great, however, that the
besiegers had little doubt that his arrival would change the position of
things; and even the French, in spite of the bad feeling which had
existed in Sicily, joined with the knights and army of the King of
Jerusalem in acclaiming the arrival of the English.

Phillip Augustus, the French King, was of a somewhat weak and wavering
disposition. It would have been thought that after his dispute with King
Richard he would have gladly done all in his power to carry Acre before
the arrival of his great rival. To the great disappointment of the
French, however, he declared that he would take no step in the general
assault until the arrival of Richard; and although the French had given
some assistance to the besiegers, the army had really remained passive
for many weeks.

Now, however, that the English had arrived, little time was lost; for the
moment the dissensions and jealousies between the monarchs were patched
up, the two hosts naturally imitated the example of their sovereigns, and
French and English worked side by side in throwing up trenches against
the walls, in building movable towers for the attack, and in preparing
for the great onslaught.

The French were the first to finish their preparations, and they
delivered a tremendous assault upon the walls. The besieged, however, did
not lose heart, and with the greatest bravery repulsed every attempt. The
scaling ladders were hurled backwards, the towers were destroyed by Greek
fire; boiling oil was hurled down upon the men who advanced under the
shelter of machines to undermine the walls; and after desperate fighting
the French fell back, baffled and beaten.

There was some quiet exultation in the English lines at the defeat of the
French, for they believed that a better fortune would crown their own
efforts. Such, however, to their surprise and mortification, was not the
case. When their preparations were completed, they attacked with splendid
bravery. They were fighting under the eyes of their king, and in sight of
the French army, who had a few days before been baffled; and if bravery
and devotion could have carried the walls of Acre, assuredly King
Richard's army would have accomplished the task.

It was, however, too great for them, and with vast loss the army fell
back to its camp, King Richard raging like a wounded lion. Many of his
barons had been killed in the assault, and the pikemen and men-at-arms
had suffered heavily. The Earl of Evesham had been wounded; Cuthbert had
taken no part in the assault, for the earl, knowing his bravery, had
forbidden his doing so, as he foresaw the struggle would be of the most
desperate character; and as it was not usual for pages to accompany
their lords on the battle-field, Cuthbert could not complain of his being
forbidden to take part in the fight.

The earl, however, permitted him to accompany Cnut and the bowmen, who
did great service by the accuracy of their aim, preventing by their storm
of arrows the men on the battlements from taking steady aim and working
their machines, and so saved the Earl of Evesham's troop and those
fighting near him from suffering nearly as heavy loss as some of those
engaged in other quarters.

But while successful in beating off all assaults, the defenders of Acre
were now nearly at the end of their resources. The Emperor Saladin,
although he had collected an army of 200,000 men, yet feared to advance
and give battle to the crusaders in their own lines--for they had thrown
up round their camp strong entrenchments, to prevent the progress of the
siege being disturbed by forces from without.

The people of Acre seeing the time pass and no sign of a rescuing force,
their provisions being utterly exhausted, and pestilence and fever making
frightful ravages in the city, at last determined to surrender.

For over two years they had made a resistance of the most valiant
description, and now, despairing of success or rescue, and seeing the
hosts of their besiegers increasing day by day, they hoisted a flag upon
the walls, and sent a deputation to the kings, asking for terms if they
submitted. They would have done well had they submitted upon the arrival
of the French and English reinforcements. For the monarchs, annoyed by
the defeat of their forces and by the heavy losses they had sustained,
and knowing that the besieged were now at their last crust, were not
disposed to be merciful.

However, the horrors which then attended the capture of cities in a
war in which so little quarter was given on either side, were avoided.
The city was to be surrendered; the much-prized relic contained within
its walls--said to be a piece of the true Cross which had been
captured by the Saracens at the battle of Tiberias, in which they had
almost annihilated the Christian armies a few years before--was to be
surrendered; the Christian prisoners in their hands were to be given
up unharmed; and the inhabitants undertook to pay 200,000 pieces of
gold to the kings within forty days, under the condition that the
fighting men now taken prisoners were to be put to death should this
ransom not be paid.

The conquest of Acre was hailed throughout Christendom as a triumph of
the highest importance. It opened again the gates of the Holy Land; and
so tremendous was the strength of the fortress, that it was deemed that
if this stronghold were unable to resist effectually the arms of the
crusaders, and that if Saladin with so great an army did not dare to
advance to its rescue, then the rest of the Holy Land would speedily fall
under the hands of the invading army.

With the fall of Acre, however, the dissensions between the two kings,
which had for a while been allowed to rest while the common work was to
be done, broke out again with renewed intensity. The jealousy of Phillip
Augustus was raised to the highest point by the general enthusiasm of the
combined armies for the valiant King of England, and by the authority
which that monarch exercised in the councils. He therefore suddenly
announced his intention of returning to France.

This decision at first occasioned the greatest consternation in the ranks
of the crusaders; but this feeling was lessened when the king announced
that he should leave a large portion of the French army behind, under the
command of the Duke of Burgundy. The wiser councillors were satisfied
with the change. Although there was a reduction of the total fighting
force, yet the fact that it was now centred under one head, and that King
Richard would now be in supreme command, was deemed to more than
counterbalance the loss of a portion of the French army.

Before starting on the march for Jerusalem, King Richard sullied his
reputation by causing all the defenders of Acre to be put to death, their
ransom not having arrived at the stipulated time.

Then the allied army set out upon their journey. The fleet cruised along
near them, and from it they obtained all that was requisite for their
wants, and yet, notwithstanding these advantages, the toil and fatigue
were terrible. Roads scarcely existed, and the army marched across the
rough and broken country. There was no straggling, but each kept his
place; and if unable to do so, fell and died. The blazing sun poured down
upon them with an appalling force; the dust which rose when they left the
rocks and came upon flat sandy ground, almost smothered them. Water was
only obtainable at the halts, and then was frequently altogether
insufficient for the wants of the army; while in front, on flank, and in
rear hovered clouds of the cavalry of Saladin.

At times King Richard would allow parties of his knights to detach
themselves from the force to drive off these enemies. But it was the
chase of a lion after a hare. The knights in their heavy armour and
powerful steeds were left behind as if standing still, by the fleet
Bedouins on their desert coursers; and the pursuers, exhausted and worn
out, were always glad to regain the ranks of the army.

These clouds of cavalry belonging to the enemy did not content
themselves with merely menacing and cutting off stragglers. At times,
when they thought they saw an opening, they would dash in and attack the
column desperately, sometimes gaining temporary advantages, killing and
wounding many, then fleeing away again into the desert.

Finding that it was impossible to catch these wary horsemen, King Richard
ordered his bowmen to march outside his cavalry, so that when the enemy's
horse approached within bowshot they should open upon them with arrows;
then, should the horsemen persist in charging, the archers were at once
to take refuge behind the lines of the knights.

Day after day passed in harassing conflicts. The distance passed over
each day was very small, and the sufferings of the men from thirst, heat,
and fatigue enormous. Cuthbert could well understand now what he had
heard of great armies melting away, for already men began to succumb in
large numbers to the terrible heat, and the path traversed by the army
was scattered with corpses of those who had fallen victims to sunstroke.
Not even at night did the attacks of the enemy cease, and a portion of
the harassed force was obliged to keep under arms to repel assaults.

So passed the time until the army arrived at Azotus, and there, to the
delight of the crusaders, who only longed to get at their foes, they
beheld the whole force of Saladin, 200,000 strong, barring their way. Had
it not been for the stern discipline enforced by King Richard, the
knights of England and France would have repeated the mistake which had
caused the extermination of the Christian force at Tiberias, and would
have levelled their lances and charged recklessly into the mass of their
enemies. But the king, riding round the flanks and front of the force,
gave his orders in the sternest way, with the threat that any man who
moved from the ranks should die by his hand.

The army was halted, the leaders gathered round the king, and a hasty
consultation was held. Richard insisted upon the fight being conducted
upon the same principles as the march--that the line of archers
should stand outside the knights, and should gall the advancing force
with arrows till the last moment, and then retire among the cavalry,
only to sally out again as the Bedouins fell back from the steel wall
of horsemen.

Cuthbert had now for the first time donned full armour, and rode behind
the Earl of Evesham as his esquire, for the former esquire had been left
behind, ill with fever, at Acre.

CHAPTER XII.

THE ACCOLADE.

It was now a year since they had left England, and Cuthbert had much
grown and widened out in the interval, and had never neglected an
opportunity of practising with arms; and the earl was well aware that he
should obtain as efficient assistance from him in time of need as he
could desire.

This was the first time that Cuthbert, and indeed the great proportion of
those present in the Christian host, had seen the enemy in force, and
they eagerly watched the vast array. It was picturesque in the extreme,
with a variety and brightness of colour rivalling that of the Christian
host. In banners and pennons the latter made a braver show; but the
floating robes of the infidel showed a far brighter mass of colour than
the steel armour of the Christians.

Here were people drawn from widely separated parts of Saladin's
dominions. Here were Nubians from the Nile, tall and powerful men, jet
black in skin, with lines of red and white paint on their faces, giving a
ghastly and wild appearance to them. On their shoulders were skins of
lions and other wild animals. They carried short bows, and heavy clubs
studded with iron. By them were the Bedouin cavalry, light, sinewy men,
brown as berries, with white turbans and garments. Near these were the
cavalry from Syria and the plains of Assyria--wild horsemen with
semi-barbarous armour and scarlet trappings. Here were the solid lines of
the Egyptian infantry, steady troops, upon whom Saladin much relied. Here
were other tribes, gathered from afar, each distinguished by its own
particular marks. In silence did this vast array view awhile the solid
mass of the Christians. Suddenly a strange din of discordant music from
thousands of musical instruments--conches and horns, cymbals and drums,
arose in wild confusion. Shouts of defiance in a dozen tongues and from
200,000 throats rose wild and shrill upon the air, while clear above all
the din were heard the strange vibratory cries of the warriors from the
Egyptian highlands.

"One would think," said Cnut grimly to Cuthbert, "that the infidels
imagine we are a flock of antelopes to be frightened by an outcry. They
would do far better to save their wind for future use. They will want it,
methinks, when we get fairly among them. Who would have thought that a
number of men, heathen and infidel though they be, could have made so
foul an outcry?"

Cuthbert laughed.

"Every one fights according to his own method, Cnut; and I am not sure
that there is not something to be said for this outcry, for it is really
so wild and fearful that it makes my blood almost curdle in my veins; and
were it not that I know the proved valour of our knights and footmen, I
should feel shaken by this terrible introduction to the fight."

"I heed it no more," said Cnut, "than the outcry of wild fowl, when one
comes upon them suddenly on a lake in winter. It means no more than that;
and I reckon that they are trying to encourage themselves fully as much
as to frighten us. However, we shall soon see. If they can fight as well
as they can scream, they certainly will get no answering shouts from us.
The English bulldog fights silently, and bite as hard as he will, you
will hear little beyond a low growl. Now, my men," he said, turning to
his archers, "methinks the heathen are about to begin in earnest. Keep
steady; do not fire until you are sure that they are within range. Draw
your bows well to your ears, and straightly and steadily let fly. Never
heed the outcry or the rush, keep steady to the last moment. There is
shelter behind you, and fierce as the attack may be, you can find a sure
refuge behind the line of the knights."

Cnut with his archers formed part of the line outside the array of
English knights, and the arrows of the English bowmen fell fast as bands
of the Bedouin horse circled round them in the endeavour to draw the
Christians on to the attack. For some time Saladin persisted in these
tactics. With his immense superiority of force he reckoned that if the
Christian chivalry would but charge him, the victory of Tiberias would be
repeated. Hemmed in by numbers, borne down by the weight of armour and
the effects of the blazing sun, the knights would succumb as much to
fatigue as to the force of their foes. King Richard's orders, however,
were well obeyed, and at last the Moslem chief, urged by the entreaties
of his leading emirs, who felt ashamed that so large a force should
hesitate to attack one so vastly inferior in numbers, determined upon
taking the initiative, and forming his troops in a semicircle round the
Christian army, launched his horsemen to the attack. The instant they
came within range, a cloud of arrows from the English archers fell among
them, but the speed at which the desert horses covered the ground
rendered it impossible for the archers to discharge more than one or two
shafts before the enemy were upon them. Quickly as they now slipped back
and sought refuge under the lances of the knights, many of them were
unable to get back in time, and were cut down by the Saracens. The rest
crept between the horses or under their bellies into the rear, and there
prepared to sally out again as soon as the enemy retired, The Christian
knights sat like a wall of steel upon their horses, their lances were
levelled, and, brave as the Bedouin horsemen were, they felt to break
this massive line was impossible. The front line, however, charged well
up to the points of the lances, against which they hewed with their sharp
scimitars, frequently severing the steel top from the ashpole, and then
breaking through and engaging in hand-to-hand conflict with the knights.
Behind the latter sat their squires, with extra spears and arms ready to
hand to their masters; and in close combat, the heavy maces with their
spike ends were weapons before which the light clad horsemen went down
like reeds before a storm.

Hour after hour the Arab horsemen persisted in their attack, suffering
heavily, but determined to conquer if possible. Then Saladin suddenly
ordered a retreat, and at seeing their enemy fly, the impetuosity of the
crusaders at last broke out. With a shout they dashed after the foe. King
Richard, knowing that his followers had already shown a patience far
beyond what he could have expected, now headed the onslaught, performing
prodigies of valour with his single arm, and riding from point to point
to see that all was well.

The early resistance of the infidel host was comparatively slight.
The heavy mass of the Christian cavalry, with their levelled lances,
swept through the ranks of the light horsemen, and trampled them down
like grass beneath their feet; but every moment the resistance became
more stubborn.

Saladin, knowing the Christians would sooner or later assume the
offensive, had gathered his troops line in line behind the front ranks,
and as the force of the crusaders' charge abated, so did the number of
foes in their front multiply. Not only this, but upon either side chosen
bands swept down, and ere long the Christians were brought to a stand,
and all were fighting hand to hand with their enemies. The lances were
thrown away now, and with axe and mace each fought for himself.

The Earl of Evesham was one of a group of knights whom King Richard had
that day ordered to keep close to his person, and around this group the
fight raged most furiously.

Saladin, aware of the extreme personal valour and warlike qualities of
King Richard, set the greatest value upon his death or capture, and had
ordered a large number of his best troops to devote their whole attention
to attacking the King of England. The royal standard carried behind the
king was a guide to their onslaught, and great as was the strength and
valour of King Richard, he with difficulty was able to keep at bay the
hosts that swept around him.

Now that the lance had been abandoned for battle-axe, Cuthbert was able
to take an active part in the struggle, his duties consisting mainly in
guarding the rear of his master, and preventing his being overthrown by
any sudden attack on the flank or from behind.

King Richard was bent not only on defending himself from the attacks of
his foes, but on directing the general course of the battle; and from
time to time he burst, with his own trusty knights, through the ring of
foes, and rode from point to point of the field, calling the knights
together, exhorting them to steadiness, and restoring the fight where its
fortunes seemed doubtful. At one time the impetuosity of the king led him
into extreme danger. He had burst through the enemy surrounding him, and
these, by order of their captain, allowed him to pass through their
ranks, and then threw themselves together in his rear, to cut him off
from the knights who rode behind. The maneuver was successful. The rush
of horsemen fairly carried away the Christian knights, and one or two
alone were able to make their way through.

Amid the wild confusion that raged, where each man was fighting for his
own life, and but little view of what was passing could be obtained
through the barred visor, the fact that the king was separated from them
was known to but few. Sir Walter himself was engaged fiercely in a
hand-to-hand fight with four Bedouins who surrounded him, when Cuthbert
shouted,--

"The king, Sir Walter! the king! He is cut off and surrounded! For
heaven's sake ride to him. See! the royal standard is down."

With a shout the earl turned, brained one of his foes with a sweep of his
heavy axe, and, followed by Cuthbert, dashed to the assistance of the
king. The weight of his horse and armour cleft through the crowd, and in
a brief space he penetrated to the side of King Richard, who was borne
upon by a host of foes. Just as they reached them a Bedouin who had been
struck from his horse crawled beneath the noble charger of King Richard,
and drove his scimitar deep into its bowels. The animal reared high in
its sudden pain, and then fell on the ground, carrying the king, who was
unable to disengage himself quickly enough.

In an instant the Earl of Evesham had leapt from his horse and with his
broad triangular shield extended sought to cover him from the press of
enemies. Cuthbert imitated his lord, and strove to defend the latter from
attacks from the rear. For a moment or two the sweep of the earl's heavy
axe and Cuthbert's circling sword kept back the foe, but this could not
last. King Richard in vain strove to extricate his leg from beneath his
fallen steed. Cuthbert saw at a glance that the horse still lived, and
with a sudden slash of his sword he struck it on the hind quarter. Goaded
by the pain the noble animal made a last effort to rise, but only to fall
back dead. The momentary action was, however, sufficient for King
Richard, who drew his leg from under it, and with his heavy battle-axe in
hand, rose with a shout, and stood by the side of the earl.

In vain did the Bedouins strive to cut down and overpower the two
champions; in vain did they urge their horses to ride over them. With
each sweep of his axe the king either dismounted a foe or clove in the
head of his steed, and a wall of slain around them testified to the
tremendous power of their arms. Still, even such warriors as these could
not long sustain the conflict. The earl had already received several
desperate wounds, and the king himself was bleeding from some severe
gashes with the keen-edged scimitars. Cuthbert was already down, when a
shout of "St. George!" was heard, and a body of English knights clove
through the throng of Saracens and reached the side of King Richard.
Close behind these in a mass pressed the British footmen with bill and
pike, the enemy giving way foot by foot before their steady discipline.

The king was soon on horseback again, and rallying his troops on, led
them for one more great and final charge upon the enemy.

The effect was irresistible. Appalled by the slaughter which they had
suffered, and by the tremendous strength and energy of the Christian
knights, the Saracens broke and fled; and the last reserves of Saladin
gave way as the king, shouting his war-cry of "God help the holy
sepulchre!" fell upon them. Once, indeed, the battle still seemed
doubtful, for a fresh band of the enemy at that moment arrived and joined
in the fray. The crusaders were now, however, inspired with such courage
and confidence that they readily obeyed the king's war-cry, gathered in a
firm body, and hurled themselves upon this new foe. Then the Saracens
finally turned and fled, and the Christian victory was complete.

It was one of the features of this war that however thorough the
victories of the Christians, the Saracens very speedily recovered from
their effects. A Christian defeat was crushing and entire; the knights
died as they stood, and defeat meant annihilation. Upon the other hand,
the Saracens and Bedouins when they felt that their efforts to win the
battle were unsuccessful, felt no shame or humiliation in scattering like
sheep. On their fleet horses and in their light attire they could easily
distance the Christians, who never, indeed, dreamt of pursuing them. The
day after the fight, the enemy would collect again under their chiefs,
and be as ready as before to renew their harassing warfare.

On his return from the field, the king assembled many of his principal
knights and leaders, and summoned the Earl of Evesham, with the message
that he was to bring his esquire with him. When they reached the tent,
the king said,--

"My lords, as some of you may be aware, I have this day had a narrow
escape from death. Separated from you in the battle, and attended only by
my standard-bearer, I was surrounded by the Saracens. I should doubtless
have cleft my way through the infidel dogs, but a foul peasant stabbed my
charger from below, and the poor brute fell with me. My standard-bearer
was killed, and in another moment my nephew Arthur would have been your
king, had it not been that my good lord here, attended by this brave lad,
appeared. I have seen a good deal of fighting, but never did I see a
braver stand than they made above my body. The Earl of Evesham, as you
all know, is one of my bravest knights, and to him I can simply say,
'Thanks; King Richard does not forget a benefit like this.' But such aid
as I might well look for from so stout a knight as the Earl of Evesham, I
could hardly have expected on the part of a mere boy like this. It is not
the first time that I have been under a debt of gratitude to him; for it
was his watchfulness and bravery which saved Queen Berengaria from being
carried off by the French in Sicily. I deemed him too young then for the
order of knighthood--although indeed bravery has no age; still for a
private benefit, and that performed against allies, in name at least, I
did not wish so far to fly in the face of usage as to make him a knight.
I promised him then, however, that the first time he distinguished
himself against the infidel he should win his spurs. I think that you
will agree with me, my lords, that he has done so. Not only did he stand
over me, and with great bravery defend Sir Walter from attacks from
behind, but his ready wit saved me, when even his sword and that of Sir
Walter would have failed to do so. Penned down under poor Robin, I was
powerless to move until our young esquire, in an interval of slashing at
his assailants, found time to give a sharp blow together with a shout to
Robin. The poor beast tried to rise, and the movement, short as it was,
enabled me to draw my leg from under him, and then with my mace I was
enabled to make a stand until you arrived at my side. I think, my lords,
that you will agree with me that Cuthbert, the son of Sir William de
Lance, is fit for the honour of knighthood."

A general chorus of approval arose from the assembly, and the king,
bidding Cuthbert kneel before him, drew his sword and laid it across his
shoulders, dubbing him Sir Cuthbert de Lance. When he had risen, the
great barons of England pressed round to shake his hand, and Cuthbert,
who was a modest young fellow, felt almost ashamed at the honours which
were bestowed upon him. The usual ceremonies and penances which young
knights had to undergo before admission into the body--and which in those
days were extremely punctilious, and indeed severe, consisting, among
other things, in fasting, in watching the armour at night, in seclusion
and religious services--were omitted when the accolade was bestowed for
bravery in the field.

The king ordered his armourer at once to make for Cuthbert a suit of the
finest armour, and authorized him to carry on his shield a sword raising
a royal crown from the ground, in token of the deed for which the honour
of knighthood had been bestowed upon him.

Upon his return to the earl's camp the news of his new dignity spread at
once among the followers of Sir Walter, and many and hearty were the
cheers that went up from the throats of the Saxon foresters, led by Cnut.
These humble friends were indeed delighted at his success, for they felt
that to him they owed very much; and his kindness of manner and the
gaiety of heart which he had shown during the hardships they had
undergone since their start, had greatly endeared him to them.

Cuthbert was now to take rank among the knights who followed the banner
of the earl. A tent was erected for him, an esquire assigned to him, and
the lad as he entered his new abode felt almost bewildered at the change
which had taken place in one short day--that he, at the age of sixteen,
should have earned the honour of knighthood, and the approval of the King
of England, expressed before all the great barons of the realm, was
indeed an honour such as he could never have hoped for; and the thought
of what his mother would say should the news reach her in her quiet Saxon
home, brought the tears into his eyes. He had not gone through the usual
religious ceremonies, but he knelt in his tent alone, and prayed that he
might be made worthy of the honours bestowed upon him; that he might
fulfil the duties of a Christian knight fearlessly and honourably; that
his sword might never be raised but for the right; that he might devote
himself to the protection of the oppressed, and the honour of God; that
his heart might be kept from evil; and that he might carry through life,
unstained his new escutcheon.

If the English had thought that their victory would have gained them
immunity from the Saracen attacks, they were speedily undeceived. The
host, indeed, which had barred their way had broken up; but its fragments
were around them, and the harassing attacks began again with a violence
and persistency even greater than before. The crusaders, indeed, occupied
only the ground upon which they stood. It was death to venture 100 yards
from the camp, unless in a strong body; and the smallest efforts to bring
in food from the country round were instantly met and repelled. Only in
very strong bodies could the knights venture from camp even to forage for
their horses, and the fatigues and sufferings of all were in a way
relieved by the great victory of Azotus.

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE HANDS OF THE SARACENS.

The English had hoped that after one pitched battle they should be able
to advance upon Jerusalem, but they had reckoned without the climate
and illness.

Although unconquered in the fray, the Christian army was weakened by its
sufferings to such an extent that it was virtually brought to a
standstill. Even King Richard, with all his impetuosity, dared not
venture to cut adrift from the seashore, and to march direct upon
Jerusalem; that city was certainly not to be taken without a long siege,
and this could only be undertaken by an army strong enough, not only to
carry out so great a task, but to meet and defeat the armies which
Saladin would bring up to the rescue, and to keep open the line down to
Joppa, by which alone provisions, and the engines necessary for the
siege, could be brought up. Hence the war resolved itself into a series
of expeditions and detached fights.

The British camp was thoroughly fortified, and thence parties of the
knights sallied out and engaged in conflicts with the Saracens, with
varying success. On several of these expeditions Cuthbert attended the
earl, and behaved with a bravery which showed him well worthy of the
honours which he had received.

Upon one occasion the news reached camp that a party of knights, who had
gone out to guard a number of footmen cutting forage and bringing it
into camp, had been surrounded and had taken refuge in a small town,
whose gates they had battered in when they saw the approach of an
overwhelming host of the enemy. King Richard himself headed a strong
force and advanced to their assistance. Their approach was not seen until
within a short distance of the enemy, upon whom the crusaders fell with
the force of a thunderbolt, and cleft their way through their lines.
After a short pause in the little town, they prepared to again cut their
way through, joined by the party who had there been besieged. The task
was now however, far more difficult; for the footmen would be unable to
keep up with the rapid charge of the knights, and it was necessary not
only to clear the way, but to keep it open for their exit. King Richard
himself and the greater portion of his knights were to lead the charge;
another party were to follow behind the footmen, who were ordered to
advance at the greatest speed of which they were capable, while their
rearguard by charges upon the enemy, kept them at bay. To this latter
party Cuthbert was attached.

The Saracens followed their usual tactics, and this time with great
success. Dividing as the king with his knights charged them, they
suffered these to pass through with but slight resistance, and then
closed in upon their track, while another and still more numerous body
fell upon the footmen and their guard. Again and again did the knights
charge through the ranks of the Moslems, while the billmen stoutly kept
together and resisted the onslaughts of the enemy's cavalry. In spite of
their bravery, however, the storm of arrows shot by the desert horsemen
thinned their ranks with terrible rapidity. Charging up to the very point
of the spears, these wild horsemen fired their arrows into the faces of
their foe, and although numbers of them fell beneath the more formidable
missiles sent by the English archers, their numbers were so overwhelming
that the little band melted away. The small party of knights, too, were
rapidly thinned, although performing prodigious deeds of valour. The
Saracens when dismounted or wounded still fought on foot, their object
being always to stab or hough the horses, and so dismount the riders.
King Richard and his force, though making the most desperate efforts to
return to the assistance of the rearguard, were baffled by the sturdy
resistance of the Saracens, and the position of those in the rear was
fast becoming hopeless.

One by one the gallant little band of knights fell, and a sea of turbans
closed over the fluttering plumes. Cuthbert, after defending himself with
extreme bravery for a long time, was at last separated from the small
remainder of his comrades by a rush of the enemy's horse, and when
fighting desperately he received a heavy blow at the back of the head
from the mace of a huge Nubian soldier, and fell senseless to the ground.

When he recovered his consciousness, the first impression upon his mind
was the stillness which had succeeded to the din of battle; the shouts
and war-cries of the crusaders, the wild yells of the Moslems, were
hushed, and in their place was a quiet chatter in many unknown tongues,
and the sound of laughter and feasting. Raising his head and looking
round, Cuthbert saw that he and some ten of his comrades were lying
together in the midst of a Saracen camp, and that he was a prisoner to
the infidels. The sun streamed down with tremendous force upon them;
there was no shelter; and though all were wounded and parched with
thirst, the Saracens of whom they besought water, pointing to their
mouths and making signs of their extreme thirst, laughed in their faces,
and signified by a gesture that it was scarcely worth the trouble to
drink when they were likely so soon to be put to death.

It was late in the afternoon before any change was manifest. Then
Cuthbert observed a stir in the camp; the men ran to their horses, leapt
on their backs, and with wild cries of "Welcome!" started off at full
speed. Evidently some personage was about to arrive, and the fate of the
prisoners would be solved. A few words were from time to time exchanged
between these, each urging the other to keep up his heart and defy the
infidel. One or two had succumbed to their wounds during the afternoon,
and only six were able to stand erect when summoned to do so by some of
their guard, who made signs to them that a great personage was coming.
Soon the shouts of the horsemen and other sounds announced that the great
chief was near at hand, and the captives gathered from the swelling
shouts of the Arabs that the new arrival was Sultan Suleiman--or Saladin,
for he was called by both names--surrounded by a body-guard of
splendidly-dressed attendants. The emir, who was himself plainly attired,
reined up his horse in front of the captives.

"You are English," he said, in the lingua-franca which was the medium of
communication between the Eastern and Western peoples in those days. "You
are brave warriors, and I hear that before you were taken you slaughtered
numbers of my people. They did wrong to capture you and bring you here to
be killed. Your cruel king gives no mercy to those who fall into his
hands. You must not expect it here, you who without a pretence of right
invade my country, slaughter my people, and defeat my armies. The murder
of the prisoners of Acre has closed my heart to all mercy. There, your
king put 10,000 prisoners to death in cold blood, a month after the
capture of the place, because the money at which he had placed their
ransom had not arrived. We Arabs do not carry huge masses of gold about
with us; and although I could have had it brought from Egypt, I did not
think that so brave a monarch as Richard of England could have committed
so cruel an action in cold blood. When we are fresh from battle, and our
wounds are warm, and our hearts are full of rage and fury, we kill our
prisoners; but to do so weeks after a battle is contrary to the laws
alike of your religion and of ours. However, it is King Richard who has
sealed your doom, not I. You are knights, and I do not insult you with
the offer of turning from your religion and joining me. Should one of you
wish to save his life on these conditions, I will, however, promise him a
place of position and authority among us."

None of the knights moved to accept the offer, but each, as the eye of
the emir ran along the line, answered with an imprecation of contempt and
hatred. Saladin waved his hand, and one by one the captives were led
aside, walking as proudly to their doom as if they had been going to a
feast. Each wrung the hand of the one next to him as he turned, and then
without a word followed his captors. There was a dull sound heard, and
one by one the heads of the knights rolled in the sand.

Cuthbert happened to be last in the line, and as the executioners laid
hands upon him and removed his helmet, the eye of the sultan fell upon
him, and he almost started at perceiving the extreme youth of his
captive. He held his hand aloft to arrest the movements of the
executioners, and signalled for Cuthbert to be brought before him again.

"You are but a boy," he said. "All the knights who have hitherto fallen
into my hands have been men of strength and power; how is it that I see a
mere youth among their ranks, and wearing the golden spurs of
knighthood?"

"King Richard himself made me a knight," Cuthbert said proudly, "after
having stood across him when his steed had been foully stabbed at the
battle of Azotus, and the whole Moslem host were around him."

"Ah!" said the emir, "were you one of the two who, as I have heard,
defended the king for some time against all assaults? It were hard
indeed to kill so brave a youth. I doubt me not that at present you are
as firmly determined to die a Christian knight as those who have gone
before you? But time may change you. At any rate for the present your
doom is postponed."

He turned to a gorgeously-dressed noble next to him, and said,--

"Your brother, Ben Abin, is Governor of Jerusalem, and the gardens of
the palace are fair. Take this youth to him as a present, and set him to
work in his gardens. His life I have spared, in all else Ben Abin will
be his master."

Cuthbert heard without emotion the words which changed his fate from
death to slavery. Many, he knew, who were captured in these wars were
carried away as slaves to different parts of Asia, and it did not seem to
him that the change was in any way a boon. However, life is dear, and it
was but natural that a thought should leap into his heart that soon
either the crusaders might force a way into Jerusalem and there rescue
him, or that he himself might in some way escape.

The sultan having thus concluded the subject, turned away, and galloped
off surrounded by his body-guard.

Those who had captured the Christians now stripped off the armour of
Cuthbert; then he was mounted on a bare-backed steed, and with four
Bedouins, with their long lances, riding beside him, started for
Jerusalem. After a day of long and rapid riding, the Arabs stopped
suddenly, on the crest of a hill, with a shout of joy, and throwing
themselves from their horses, bent with their foreheads to the earth at
the sight of their holy city. Cuthbert, as he gazed at the stately walls
of Jerusalem, and the noble buildings within, felt bitterly that it was
not thus that he had hoped to see the holy city. He had dreamt of
arriving before it with his comrades, proud and delighted at their
success so far, and confident in their power soon to wrest the town
before them from the hands of the Moslems. Instead of this he was a
slave--a slave to the infidel, perhaps never more to see a white face,
save that of some other unfortunate like himself.

Even now in its fallen state no city is so impressive at first sight as
Jerusalem; the walls, magnificent in height and strength, and picturesque
in their deep embattlements, rising on the edge of a deep valley. Every
building has its name and history. Here is the church built by the first
crusaders; there the mighty mosque of Suleiman on the site of the Temple;
far away on a projecting ridge the great building known as the Tomb of
Moses; on the right beyond the houses rise the towers on the Roman walls;
the Pool of Bethsaida lies in the hollow; in the centre are the cupolas
of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Among all the fairest cities of the
world, there are none which can compare in stately beauty with Jerusalem.
Doubtless it was a fairer city in those days, for long centuries of
Turkish possession have reduced many of the former stately palaces to
ruins. Then, as now, the banner of the Prophet floated over the high
places; but whereas at present the population is poor and squalid, the
city in those days contained a far large number of inhabitants,
irrespective of the great garrison collected for its defence.

The place from which Cuthbert had his first sight of Jerusalem is that
from which the best view is to be obtained--the crest of the Mount of
Olives. After a minute or two spent in looking at the city, the Arabs
with a shout continued their way down into the valley. Crossing this
they ascended the steep road to the walls, brandishing their lances and
giving yells of triumph; then riding two upon each side of their
prisoner, to protect him from any fanatic who might lay a hand upon him,
they passed under the gate known as the Gate of Suleiman into the city.

The populace thronged the streets; and the news brought by the horsemen
that a considerable portion of the Christian host had been defeated and
slain, passed from mouth to mouth, and was received with yells of
exultation. Execrations were heaped upon Cuthbert, who rode along with an
air as quiet and composed as if he were the centre of an ovation instead
of that of an outburst of hatred.

He would, indeed, speedily have been torn from his guards, had not these
shouted that he was placed in their hands by Saladin himself for conduct
to the governor. As the emir was as sharp and as ruthless with his own
people as with the prisoners who fell into his hands, the name acted as a
talisman, and Cuthbert and his escort rode forward without molestation
until they reached the entrance to the palace.

Dismounting, Cuthbert was now led before the governor himself, a stern
and grave-looking man, sitting cross-legged on a divan surrounded by
officers and attendants. He heard in silence the account given him by the
escort, bowed his head at the commands of Suleiman, and, without
addressing a word to Cuthbert, indicated to two attendants that he was to
be removed into the interior of the house. Here the young knight was led
to a small dungeon-like room; bread and dates with a cruse of water were
placed before him; the door was then closed and locked without, and he
found himself alone with his thoughts.

No one came near him that night, and he slept as soundly as he would have
done in his tent in the midst of the Christian host. He was resolved to
give no cause for ill-treatment or complaint to his captors, to work as
willingly, as cheerfully, as was in his power, and to seize the first
opportunity to make his escape, regardless of any risk of his life which
he might incur in doing so.

In the morning the door opened, and a black slave led him into the
garden, which was surrounded by a very high and lofty wall. It was large,
and full of trees and flowers, and far more beautiful than any garden
that Cuthbert had seen in his native land. There were various other
slaves at work; and an Arab, who appeared to be the head of the
gardeners, at once appointed to Cuthbert the work assigned to him. A
guard of Arabs with bow and spear watched the doings of the slaves.

With one glance round, Cuthbert was assured that escape from this garden,
at least, was not to be thought of, and that for the present, patience
alone was possible. Dismissing all ideas of that kind from his mind, he
set to work with a steady attention to his task. He was very fond of
flowers, and soon he became so absorbed in his work as almost to forget
that he was a slave. It was not laborious--digging, planting, pruning and
training the flowers, and giving them copious draughts of water from a
large fountain in the centre of the garden.

The slaves were not permitted to exchange a word with each other. At the
end of the day's work they were marched off to separate chambers, or, as
they might be called, dungeons. Their food consisted of water, dried
dates, and bread, and they had little to complain of in this respect;
indeed, the slaves in the gardens of the governor's house at Jerusalem
enjoyed an exceptionally favoured existence. The governor himself was
absorbed in the cares of the city. The head gardener happened to be a man
of unusual humanity, and it was really in his hands that the comfort of
the prisoners was placed.

Sometimes in the course of the day, veiled ladies would issue in groups
from the palace, attended by black slaves with drawn scimitars. They
passed without unveiling across the point where the slaves were at work,
and all were forbidden on pain of death to look up, or even to approach
the konak or pavilion, where the ladies threw aside their veils, and
enjoyed the scent and sight of the flowers, the splash of murmuring
waters, and the strains of music touched by skilful hands.

Although Cuthbert wondered in his heart what these strange wrapped-up
figures might look like when the veils were thrown back, he certainly did
not care enough about the matter to run any risk of drawing the anger of
his guards upon himself by raising his eyes towards them; nor did he ever
glance up at the palace, which was also interdicted to the slaves. From
the lattice casements during the day the strains of music and merry
laughter often came down to the captives; but this, if anything, only
added to the bitterness of their position, by reminding them that they
were shut off for life from ever hearing the laughter of the loved ones
they had left behind.

For upwards of a month Cuthbert remained steadily at work, and during
that time no possible plan of escape had occurred to him, and he had
indeed resigned himself to wait, either until, as he hoped, the city
would be taken by the Christians, or until he himself might be removed
from his present post and sent into the country, where, although his
lot would doubtless be far harder, some chance of escape might open
before him.

One night, long after slumber had fallen upon the city, Cuthbert was
startled by hearing his door open. Rising to his feet, he saw a black
slave, and an old woman beside him. The latter spoke first in the
lingua-franca,--

"My mistress, the wife of the governor, has sent me to ask your story.
How is it that, although but a youth, you are already a knight? How is it
that you come to be a slave to our people? The sultan himself sent you to
her lord. She would fain hear through me how it has happened. She is the
kindest of ladies, and the sight of your youth has touched her heart."

With thanks to the unknown lady who had felt an interest in him, Cuthbert
briefly related the events which had led to his captivity. The old woman
placed on the ground a basket containing some choice fruit and white
bread, and then departed with the negro as quietly as she had come,
leaving Cuthbert greatly pleased at what had taken place.

"Doubtless," he said to himself, "I shall hear again; and it may be that
through the pity of this lady some means of escape may open to me."

Although for some little time no such prospect appeared, yet the visits
of the old woman, which were frequently repeated, were of interest to
him, and seemed to form a link between him and the world.

After coming regularly every night for a week, she bade the young knight
follow her, holding her finger to her lips in sign that caution must be
observed. Passing through several passages, he was at length led into a
room where a lady of some forty years of age, surrounded by several
slaves and younger women, was sitting. Cuthbert felt no scruple in making
a deep obeisance to her; the respect shown to women in the days of
chivalry was very great, and Cuthbert in bowing almost to the ground
before the lady who was really his mistress, did not feel that he was
humiliating himself.

"Young slave," she said, "your story has interested us. We have
frequently watched from the windows, and have seen how willingly and
patiently you have worked; and it seems strange indeed that one so young
should have performed such feats of bravery as to win the honour of
knighthood from the hand of that greatest of warriors, Richard of
England. What is it, we would fain learn from your lips, that stirs up
the heart of the Christian world that they should launch their armies
against us, who wish but to be left alone, and who have no grudge against
them? This city is as holy to us as it is to you; and as we live around
it, and all the country for thousands of miles is ours, is it likely that
we should allow it to be wrested from us by strangers from a distance?"

This was spoken in some Eastern language of which Cuthbert understood no
word, but its purport was translated to him by the old woman who had
hitherto acted as his mistress's messenger.

Cuthbert reported the circumstances of the fight at Azotus and
endeavoured to explain the feelings which had given rise to the Crusade.
He then, at the orders of the lady, related the incidents of his voyage
out, and something of his life at home, which was more interesting even
than the tale of his adventures to his hearers, as to them the home-life
of these fierce Christian warriors was entirely unknown.

After an audience of two hours Cuthbert was conducted back to his cell,
his mistress assuring him of her good-will, and promising to do all in
her power to make his captivity as light as possible.

CHAPTER XIV.

AN EFFORT FOR FREEDOM.

Two or three nights afterwards the old woman again came to Cuthbert, and
asked him, in her mistress's name, if in any way he could suggest a
method of lightening his captivity, as his extreme youth, and bravery of
demeanour, had greatly pleased her.

Cuthbert replied that nothing but freedom could satisfy his longings;
that he was comfortable and not overworked, but that he pined to be back
again with his friends.

The old woman brought him on the following night a message to the
effect that his mistress would willingly grant him his liberty, but as
he was sent to her husband by the sultan, it would be impossible to
free him openly.

"From what she said," the old woman continued, "if you could see some
plan of making your escape, she would in no way throw difficulties in
your path; but it must not be known that the harem in any way connived at
your escape, for my lord's wrath would be terrible, and he is not a man
to be trifled with."

Looking round at the high walls that surrounded the garden, Cuthbert said
that he could think of no plan whatever for escaping from such a place;
that he had often thought it over, but that it appeared to him to be
hopeless. Even should he manage to scale these walls, he would only find
himself in the town beyond, and his escape from that would be altogether
hopeless. "Only," he said, "if I were transported to some country palace
of the governor could I ever hope to make my escape." The next night the
messenger brought him the news that his mistress was disposed to favour
his escape in the way he had pointed out, and that she would in two or
three days ask the governor for permission to pay a visit to their palace
beyond the walls, and that with her she would take a number of
gardeners--among them Cuthbert--to beautify the place. Cuthbert returned
the most lively and hearty thanks to his patroness for her kind
intentions, and hope began to rise rapidly in his heart.

It is probable, however, that the black guards of the harem heard
something of the intentions of their mistress, and that they feared the
anger of the governor should Cuthbert make his escape, and should it be
discovered that this was the result of her connivance. Either through
this or through some other source the governor obtained an inkling that
the white slave sent by the sultan was receiving unusual kindness from
the ladies of the harem.

Two nights after Cuthbert had begun to entertain bright hopes of his
liberty, the door of the cell was softly opened. He was seized by four
slaves, gagged, tied hand and foot, covered with a thick burnous, and
carried out from his cell. By the sound of their feet he heard that they
were passing into the open air, and guessed that he was being carried
through the garden; then a door opened and was closed after them; he was
flung across a horse like a bale of goods, a rope or two were placed
around him to keep him in that position, and then he felt the animal put
in motion, and heard by the trampling of feet that a considerable number
of horsemen were around him. For some time they passed over the rough,
uneven streets of the city; then there was a pause and exchange of
watchword and countersign, a creaking of doors, and a lowering of a
drawbridge, and the party issued out into the open country. Not for very
long did they continue their way; a halt was called, and Cuthbert was
taken off his horse.

On looking round, he found that he was in the middle of a considerable
group of men. Those who had brought him were a party of the governor's
guards; but he was now delivered over to a large band of Arabs, all of
whom were mounted on camels. One of these creatures he was ordered to
mount, the bonds being loosed from his arms and feet. An Arab driver,
with lance, bows, and arrows, and other weapons, took his seat on the
neck of the animal, and then with scarcely a word the caravan marched
off, with noiseless step, and with their faces turned southwards.

It seemed to Cuthbert almost as a dream. A few hours before he had been
exalted with the hope of freedom; now he was being taken away to a
slavery which would probably end but with his life. Although he could not
understand any of his captors, the repetition of a name led him to
believe that he was being sent to Egypt as a present to some man in high
authority there; and he doubted not that the Governor of Jerusalem,
fearing that he might escape, and dreading the wrath of the sultan,
should he do so, had determined to transfer the troublesome captive to a
more secure position and to safer hands.

For three days the journey continued; they had now left the fertile
lowlands of Palestine, and their faces were turned west. They were
entering upon that sandy waste which stretches between the southern
corner of Palestine and the land of Egypt, a distance which can be
travelled by camels in three days, but which occupied the Children of
Israel forty years.

At first the watch had been very sharply kept over the captive; but now
that they had entered the desert the Arabs appeared to consider that
there was no chance of an attempt to escape. Cuthbert had in every way
endeavoured to ingratiate himself with his guard. He had most willingly
obeyed their smallest orders, had shown himself pleased and grateful for
the dates which formed the staple of their repasts. He had assumed so
innocent and quiet an appearance that the Arabs had marvelled much among
themselves, and had concluded that there must have been some mistake in
the assertion of the governor's guard who had handed the prisoner over to
them, that he was one of the terrible knights of King Richard's army.

Cuthbert's heart had not fallen for a moment. He knew well that if he
once reached Cairo all hope of escape was at an end; and it was before
reaching that point that he determined if possible to make an effort for
freedom. He had noticed particularly the camel which appeared to be the
fleetest of the band; it was of lighter build than the rest, and it was
with difficulty that its rider had compelled it to accommodate itself to
the pace of the others. It was clear from the pains he took with it, by
the constant patting and the care bestowed upon its watering and
feeding, that its rider was extremely proud of it; and Cuthbert
concluded that if an escape was to be made, this was the animal on which
he must accomplish it.

Upon arriving at the end of each day's journey the camels were allowed
to browse at will, a short cord being tied between one of their hind and
one of their fore feet. The Arabs then set to work to collect sticks and
to make a fire--not for cooking, for their only food was dried dates and
some black bread, which they brought with them--but for warmth, as the
nights were damp and somewhat chilly, as they sat round the fire, talked,
and told stories. Before finally going off to rest, each went out into
the bushes and brought in his camel; these were then arranged in a circle
around the Arabs, one of the latter being mounted as sentry to prevent
any sudden surprise--not indeed that they had the smallest fear of the
Christians, who were far distant; but then, as now, the Arabs of the
desert were a plundering race, and were ever ready to drive off each
other's camels or horses. Cuthbert determined that if flight was possible
it must be undertaken during the interval after the arrival at the
halting-place and before the bringing in of the camels. Therefore, each
day upon the halt he had pretended great fatigue from the rough motion of
the camel, and had, after hastily eating the dates handed to him, thrown
himself down, covered himself with his Arab robe, and feigned instant
sleep. Thus they had in the three days from starting come to look upon
his presence sleeping close to them as a matter of course.

The second day after entering the desert, however, Cuthbert threw himself
down by the side of an uprooted shrub of small size and about his own
length. He covered himself as usual with his long, dark-blue robe, and
pretended to go to sleep. He kept his eyes, however, on the alert through
an aperture beneath his cloth, and observed particularly the direction in
which the camel upon which he had set his mind wandered into the bushes.
The darkness came on a very few minutes after they had halted, and when
the Arabs had once settled round their fire, Cuthbert very quietly
shifted the robe from himself to the long low bush near him, and then
crawled stealthily off into the darkness.

He had no fear of his footfall being heard upon the soft sand, and was
soon on his feet, looking for the camels. He was not long in finding
them, or in picking out the one which he had selected. The bushes were
succulent, and close to the camping ground; indeed, it was for this that
the halting-places were always chosen. It was not so easy, however, to
climb into the high wooden saddle, and Cuthbert tried several times in