"Religion came to her aid, and does still. I can fancy her each morning as she kneels before the altar of St. Wilfred, and wearies heaven with prayer for her absent lord and her boy, and perhaps those prayers sent thee to my deliverance this night."

"Thrice blessed they who have so pious a mother. The Priory of St.

Wilfred didst thou say? Methinks he was an English saint."

"It is the third building which has existed within the century on the spot. The first was burnt in the troubles which followed the Conquest; the second, dedicated to St. Denys, shared the same fate, and when the present priory was built, my father, who had brought his English wife from the convent of the Holy Trinity at Caen, where she received her education, restored the old dedication, as I imagine to give her pleasure."

"Thy father, thou sayest, is with thee in this land?"

"He has gone forward with the host to the siege of the Holy City. I was wounded on that glorious day when we scattered half a million followers of Mohammed, who had penned us within the walls of Antioch; and he left me with this faithful squire, Osmund--an old man who fought with my grandsire at Hastings--to tarry in the city till I should be fit to travel. Now we are journeying southward in haste, fearing we shall be too late for our share in the holy work.

Dost thou not travel thitherward--thou of all men?"

"Even now I hasten, lest my unworthy eyes should fail to behold the deliverance of that Holy Sepulchre whence my designation is taken.

We will travel together, so will thy journey be safer, for these Turks hang like carrion upon the skirts of the grand army."

"Blithely do I accept thine offer. I would not willingly perish in some obscure skirmish when the gates of Jerusalem are as the gates of heaven before me, and I shall present my preserver to my father.

Are you ill again--I fear me--"

"It is nothing. Earthly feelings must not be permitted to mingle with our sacred call."

"But I may introduce you to him?"

"When our work is done--thou mayest. The hill of Calvary will be the fitting place, where--"

Here the knight paused, and was silent for awhile, then said--"It is night, and night is the time for rest; we must sleep, my young brother in arms, if we would be fit for travel tomorrow. See, we alone are watchers; our companions are all wrapped in slumber--save the sentinels, I will but a.s.sign the latter their posts and hours, and seek nature's greatest boon to man."

Edward of Aescendune would fain have joined in this duty, but the older soldier bade him rest, in a tone of gentle authority which he could not resist. And the stern warrior drew the embers of the fire, so as to warm the feet of the youth, while he cast a mantle over him to protect him from the heavy dew.

The Knight of the Holy Sepulchre departed upon his rounds, and a.s.signed to the sentinels their posts, after which he returned and lay amidst the sleeping forms beneath the cedars, the branches of which were ever and anon fitfully illumined as some brand fell and caused a flame to arise. He gazed intently, nay, even fondly, upon the ingenuous face of the sleeping youth.

"How like his mother he is--what a load his simple tale has removed from my breast! G.o.d, I thank thee! the old house of my fathers yet lives in this boy--worthier far than I to represent it."

CHAPTER XXVII. THE FRIENDS WHO ONCE WERE FOES.

The remainder of the journey of Edward of Aescendune to the camp of the Crusaders before Jerusalem was uneventful. With such an escort as the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre and his well-known band, there was little occasion to dread the onslaught of any of those troops of Turks or Saracens, who hung on the skirts of the Crusading hosts, to cut off the stragglers.

They skirted the western sh.o.r.e of the Sea of Galilee, crossed the Jordan at the fords below, and travelled southwards along its eastern bank.

The reason of this detour was twofold.

First, it was the route taken by the Saviour of mankind, on His last journey to the guilty city which crucified Him; and the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre felt a spiritual satisfaction in tracing the steps of the Redeemer.

Secondly, the direct route had been taken by the host, and, like locusts, they had devoured all the provisions on the way, and scared from their track every edible beast.

From time to time the elder knight pointed out some venerable ruin which tradition--ever active, if not always truthful--identified as a resting place of the Divine Wayfarer; but there was little doubt that they crossed the Jordan at the same fords which had been in use in those far-off days, shortly before they entered and pa.s.sed through the city of ruins, which had once been Jericho.

Then followed the ascent of the rocky way, familiar to the readers of the parable of the "Good Samaritan;" and let me remind my younger friends that even in the days when there were few readers and fewer books, all the leading episodes of our Lord's life, including His miracles and parables, were oft-told tales {xxviii}.

It was a day of feverish excitement when they drew near Bethany and the Mount of Olives. All the followers of the young English knight, who had never been in Palestine before, looked forward to the moment when the Holy City would first meet their gaze with an intense expectation which even rendered them silent; only as they pressed onward they sometimes broke out into the Crusading hymn--familiar to them as some popular song to modern soldiers.

And this was the song:

"Coelestis urbs, Hierusalem Beata pacis visio,"

It was hardly to be a vision of peace to them.

At length they stood on the slope of the same hill where the Redeemer had wept over the guilty city; and--will my readers believe me?--many of these men of strife--familiar with war and bloodshed--did not restrain their tears of joy, as they forgot their toils past, and dangers yet to come, ere they could enter the holy walls.

This had been their longing expectation--this the goal of their wearisome journey; they had oft doubted whether their eyes would ever behold it--and now--It lay in all its wondrous beauty--beautiful even then--before them; but, the banners of the false prophet floated upon the Hill of Zion.

Across the valley of the Kedron rose the Mosque of Omar, on the site of the Temple of Solomon; farther to the left lay the fatal Valley of Hinnom, once defiled by the fires of Moloch; but on neither of these sides lay the object of the greatest present interest--the Christian Host.

Their attack was directed against the northern and western sides of the city, where the approach was far more easy.

"There is the standard of G.o.dfrey de Bouillon, on the first swell of Mount Calvary," said the elder knight; "there on the left, where the Jewish rabble erst stoned St. Stephen, Tancred and Robert of Normandy conduct the attack; there, between the citadel and the foot of Mount Zion, floats the banner of Raymond of Toulouse."

"And there, amidst the banners which surround the ducal lion of Normandy, I see our own," cried young Edward. "Oh! let us charge through that rabble and join them."

"Thine is a spirit I love to see; come, it shall be done--St.

George for merry England--Holy Sepulchre--en avant;" and the whole galloped madly down the descent, first bringing the news of their own arrival to a mixed crew of Saracens and Turks--an irregular corps of observation which had got in their way.

They cleft their way to the very centre, as a wedge driven by a powerful mallet cleaves its way to the heart of the tree. The followers of Mohammed scattered in all directions, and then, like wasps, cl.u.s.tered around in hope to sting.

Their fleet horses enabled them to keep near the Christian cavalry, and to annoy them by countless flights of arrows, darts, and spears, while, as usual, they avoided close contest, as a hunter would avoid the hug of the bear. When they could not do so, it was wondrous to see how limbs flew about, and bodies were cleft to the very chine before the ponderous battle-axes of Western Christendom.

Still, it was with lessened numbers that our heroes fought their way through, and had it not been that a body of Crusading cavalry, attracted by the tumult, came prancing down the hill to their rescue, in all the pomp and panoply of mediaeval warfare, they might have fared worse.

There was a smart engagement when the succours arrived, ending in the complete disappearance of all the Saracens and Turks from the scene, while the victors rode together to the camp, exchanging news, as if such a small affair was not worth talking about.

When they reached the camp, Edward of Aescendune exerted his powers of persuasion in vain to induce the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre to accompany him to his father's tent, there to receive the paternal thanks.

"When the city is taken, and the Holy Sepulchre free, and the army (bareheaded and barefooted) accomplishes its vow on Calvary--then, but not before--we shall meet--Etienne de Malville and--" he paused, then continued, "and I shall meet once more."

"Once more? have you ever met before?"

"We have, but long ago--let it pa.s.s, my son. G.o.d's blessing rest upon thee and protect thee on the morrow, when thou wilt, I fear, have scant care for thyself."

"It is for Jerusalem or Paradise. I shall rest in one or the other by tomorrow night at this time. I leave which to G.o.d."

"Good youth; the saints keep thee, dear boy, for thy fond mother's sake."

At that word mother, a tear stood in the warlike stripling's eye.

An embrace fonder than seemed usual with the stern knight of many deeds, and they parted.

If our tale had not protracted itself to such an extravagant length already, it would delight us to tell of the feats of valour performed respectively, by the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, by Etienne de Malville, and by Edward his son; but it must suffice to narrate in as few words as may be, the oft-told history of that eventful day.