"But whom do I see here?" said Neville, his eyes suddenly resting upon Sir Kenneth.

"A traitor," said the king, seizing his curtal-axe, "whom thou shalt see die a traitor's death." And he drew back the weapon as in act to strike.

Colourless, but firm as a marble statue, the Scot stood before him, his head uncovered, his eyes cast down. The king stood for a moment prompt to strike, then lowering the weapon, exclaimed:

"But there was blood, Neville--Hark thee, Sir Scot, brave thou wert once, for I have seen thee fight. Say thou hast struck but one blow in our behalf, and get thee out of the camp with thy life and thy infamy."

"There was no blood shed, my lord king," replied Kenneth, "save that of a poor hound, which, more faithful than his master, defended the charge he deserted."

"Now, by St. George," said Richard, again heaving up his arm, but De Vaux threw himself between him and the object of his vengeance. There was a pause.

"My lord," said Kenneth.

"Ha! hast thou found thy speech?" said Richard. "Ask grace from heaven, but none from me. Wert thou my own and only brother, there is no pardon for thy fault."

"I speak not to demand grace of mortal man," replied the Scot. "I beseech your grace for one moment's opportunity to speak that which highly concerns your fame as a Christian king. There is treason around you."

"Treason that will injure thee more deeply than the loss of a hundred banners. The--the--the Lady Edith--"

"Ha!" said the king, "what was she to do with this matter?"

"My lord," said the Scot, "there is a scheme on foot to disgrace your royal lineage, by bestowing the hand of the Lady Edith on the Saracen Soldan, and thereby to purchase a peace most dishonourable to Christendom."

The mention of his relative's name renewed the King's recollection of what he had considered extreme presumption in the Knight of the Leopard, even while he stood high on the rolls of chivalry, and now appeared to drive the fiery monarch into a frenzy of pa.s.sion.

"Silence," he said, "infamous and audacious. By heaven, I will have thy tongue torn out with hot pincers for mentioning the very name of a n.o.ble damsel! With lips blistered with the confession of thine own dishonour--that thou shouldest now dare--name her not--for an instant think not of her."

"Not name--not think of her?" answered Sir Kenneth. "Now by the cross on which I place my hope, her name shall be the last word in my mouth. Try thy boasted strength on this bare brow, and see if thou canst prevent my purpose."

"He will drive me mad," said Richard, once more staggered by the dauntless determination of the criminal.

A bustle was heard and the arrival of the queen was announced.

"Detain her, Neville," cried the king. "Away with him, De Vaux; let him have a ghostly father--and, hark thee, we will not have him dishonoured; he shall die knight-like in his belt and spurs."

The entrance of Queen Berengaria was withstood by the chamberlain, and she could hear the stern commands of the king from within to the executioner. Edith could no longer remain silent:

"_I_ will make entrance for your grace," she said, putting aside the chamberlain.

On their sudden entrance Richard flung himself hastily aside, turning his back to them as if displeased.

"Thou seest, Edith," whispered the queen, "we shall but incense him."

"Be it so," said Edith, stepping forward. "I--your poor kinswoman, crave you for justice rather than mercy, and to that cry the ear of a monarch should be ever open."

"Ha! our cousin Edith!" said Richard, rising. "She speaks ever king-like, and king-like I will answer her."

"My lord," she said, "this good knight whose blood you are about to spill hath fallen from his duty through a snare set for him in idleness and folly. A message sent to him in the name of one--why should I not speak it?--it was in my own--induced him to leave his post."

"And you saw him then, cousin?" said the king, biting his lips to keep down his pa.s.sion. "Where?"

"In the tent of her majesty, the queen."

"Of your royal consort! Now, by my father's soul, Edith, thou shalt rue this thy life long in a monastery."

"My liege," said Edith, "your greatness licences tyranny. My honour is as little touched as yours, and my lady, the queen, can prove it if she thinks fit. But I have not come here to excuse myself or inculpate others--"

The king was about to answer with much anger, when a Carmelite monk entered hastily, and flinging himself on his knees before the king, conjured him to stop the execution. It was the hermit of Engaddi, and to the king's fierce refusal to listen, he said with irritation:

"Thou art setting that mischief on foot thou wilt afterwards wish thou hadst stopped, though it had cost thee a limb. Rash, blinded man, forbear!"

"Away, away," cried the king, stamping. "The sun has risen on the dishonour of England, and it is not yet avenged. Ladies and priests withdraw, for by St. George, I swear--"

"Swear _not!_" said the voice of one who now entered--

"Ho! my learned Hakim," said the king, "come, I hope, to tax our generosity."

"I come to request instant speech with you--instant."

"Retire then, Berengaria," said the monarch. "Nay, renew not thy importunities--nay, this I give to thee--the execution shall not be till high noon. Edith, go--if you are wise."

The females hurried from the tent, and El Hakim made his humble prayer for the knight about to die. The king hardening himself as the leech a.s.sumed a more lofty tone:

"Know, then," he said, "that through every court of Europe and Asia will I denounce thee as thankless and ungenerous."

Richard turned fiercely from him.

"Hakim, thou hast chosen thy boon, and I may not, king-like, refuse thee. Take this Scot, therefore, use him as thy bond-slave if thou wilt, only let him beware how he comes before the eyes of Richard. Is there aught else in which I may do thee pleasure?"

"Let me touch that victorious hand," said the sage, "in token that should Adonbec El Hakim hereafter demand a boon of Richard of England, he may do so."

"Thou hast hand and glove upon it, man," replied Richard.

"May thy days be multiplied," answered the Hakim.

"Strange pertinacity," said the King, gazing after him as he departed, "in this Hakim to interfere between this Scot and the chastis.e.m.e.nt he has merited so richly. Yet, let him live! there is one brave man the more in the world."

_IV.--The Victory of Sir Kenneth_

Surrounded by his valiant knights, Coeur de Lion stood beside the banner of England while the powers of the various Crusading Princes swept round before him; their commanders, as they pa.s.sed, making a signal of courtesy "in sign of regard and amity," as the protocol of the ceremony heedfully expressed it, "not of va.s.salage." By the king's side stood an Ethiopian slave, recently sent to Richard by Saladin, holding a n.o.ble dog in a leash, who watched the ranks with a sagacious look as they pa.s.sed. King Richard looked more than once at the Nubian and his dog, and at last said:

"Thy success, my sable friend, will not place thee high in the list of wizards."

But Conrade of Montserrat no sooner came within his ken than the n.o.ble hound, uttering a furious yell (the Nubian at the same time slipping his leash), leapt upon the n.o.ble charger, and seizing the marquis by the throat, pulled him from the saddle.

The Ethiopian, though not without difficulty, disengaged the dog; while the voice of Richard, loud and sonorous, was heard clear above all others: