Chapter Twenty-Three: Saint Rosamund
From the day when he saw Saladin Godwin began to grow strongagain, and as his health came back, so he fell to thinking.Rosamund was lost to him and Masouda was dead, and at times hewished that he were dead also. What more had he to do with hislife, which had been so full of sorrow, struggle and bloodshed?Go back to England to live there upon his lands, and wait untilold age and death overtook him? The prospect would have pleasedmany, but it did not please Godwin, who felt that his days werenot given to him for this purpose, and that while he lived hemust also labour.
As he sat thinking thus, and was very unhappy, the aged bishopEgbert, who had nursed him so well, entered his tent, and, notinghis face, asked:
"What ails you, my son?"
"Would you wish to hear?" said Godwin.
"Am I not your confessor, with a right to hear?" answered thegentle old man. "Show me your trouble."
So Godwin began at the beginning and told it all--how as a lad hehad secretly desired to enter the Church; how the old prior ofthe abbey at Stangate counselled him that he was too young tojudge; how then the love of Rosamund had entered into his lifewith his manhood, and he had thought no more of religion. He toldhim also of the dream that he had dreamed when he lay woundedafter the fight on Death Creek; of the vows which he and Wulf hadvowed at the time of their knighting, and of how by degrees hehad learned that Rosamund's love was not for him. Lastly, he toldhim of Masouda, but of her Egbert, who had shriven her, knewalready.
The bishop listened in silence till he had finished. Then helooked up, saying:
"And now?"
"Now," answered Godwin, "I know not. Yet it seems to me that Ihear the sound of my own feet walking upon cloister stones, andof my own voice lifted up in prayer before the altar."
"You are still young to talk thus, and though Rosamund be lost toyou and Masouda dead, there are other women in the world," saidEgbert.
Godwin shook his head.
"Not for me, my father."
"Then there are the knightly Orders, in which you might risehigh."
Again he shook his head.
"The Templars and the Hospitallers are crushed. Moreover, Iwatched them in Jerusalem and the field, and love them not.Should they change their ways, or should I be needed to fightagainst the Infidel, I can join them by dispensation in days tocome. But counsel me--what shall I do now?"
"Oh! my son," the old bishop said, his face lighting up, "if Godcalls you, come to God. I will show you the road."
"Yes, I will come," Godwin answered quietly. "I will come, and,unless the Cross should once more call me to follow it in war, Iwill strive to spend the time that is left to me in His serviceand that of men. For I think, my father, that to this end I wasborn."
Three days later Godwin was ordained a priest, there in the campof Saladin, by the hand of the bishop Egbert, while around histent the servants of Mahomet, triumphant at the approachingdownfall of the Cross, shouted that God is great and Mahomet Hisonly prophet.
* * *
Saladin lifted his head and looked at Balian.
"Tell me," he said, "what of the princess of Baalbec, whom youknow as the lady Rosamund D'Arcy? I told you that I would speakno more with you of the safety of Jerusalem until she wasdelivered to me for judgment. Yet I see her not."
"Sultan," answered Balian, "we found this lady in the convent ofthe Holy Cross, wearing the robe of a novice of that order. Shehad taken the sanctuary there by the altar which we deem sosacred and inviolable, and refused to come."
Saladin laughed.
"Cannot all your men-at-arms drag one maiden from an altarstone?--unless, indeed, the great knight Wulf stood before itwith sword aloft," he added.
"So he stood," answered Balian, "but it was not of him that wethought, though assuredly he would have slain some of us. To dothis thing would have been an awful crime, which we were suremust bring down the vengeance of our God upon us and upon thecity."
"What of the vengeance of Salah-ed-din?"
"Sore as is our case, Sultan, we still fear God more thanSaladin."
"Ay, Sir Balian, but Salah-ed-din may be a sword in the hand ofGod."
"Which sword, Sultan, would have fallen swiftly had we done thisdeed."
"I think that it is about to fall," said Saladin, and again wassilent and stroked his beard.
"Listen, now," he said at length. "Let the princess, my niece,come to me and ask it of my grace, and I think that I will grantyou terms for which, in your plight, you may be thankful."
"Then we must dare the great sin and take her," answered Baliansadly, "having first slain the knight Wulf, who will not let hergo while he is alive."
"Nay, Sir Balian, for that I should be sorry, nor will I sufferit, for though a Christian he is a man after my own heart. Thistime I said 'Let her come to me,' not 'Let her be brought.' Ay,come of her own free will, to answer to me for her sin againstme, understanding that I promise her nothing, who in the old dayspromised her much, and kept my word. Then she was the princess ofBaalbec, with all the rights belonging to that great rank, towhom I had sworn that no husband should be forced upon her, norany change of faith. Now I take back these oaths, and if shecomes, she comes as an escaped Cross-worshipping slave, to whom Ioffer only the choice of Islam or of a shameful death."
"What high-born lady would take such terms?" asked Balian indismay. "Rather, I think, would she choose to die by her own handthan by that of your hangman, since she can never abjure herfaith."
"And thereby doom eighty thousand of her fellow Christians, whomust accompany her to that death," answered Saladin sternly."Know, Sir Balian, I swear it before Allah and for the last time,that if my niece Rosamund does not come, of her own free will,unforced by any, Jerusalem shall be put to sack."
"Then the fate of the holy city and all its inhabitants hangsupon the nobleness of a single woman?" stammered Balian.
"Ay, upon the nobleness of a single woman, as my vision told meit should be. If her spirit is high enough, Jerusalem may yet besaved. If it be baser than I thought, as well may chance, thenassuredly with her it is doomed. I have no more to say, but myenvoys shall ride with you bearing a letter, which with their ownhands they must present to my niece, the princess of Baalbec.Then she can return with them to me, or she can bide where sheis, when I shall know that I saw but a lying vision of peace andmercy flowing from her hands, and will press on this war to itsbloody end."
Within an hour Balian rode to the city under safe conduct, takingwith him the envoys of Saladin and the letter, which they werecharged to deliver to Rosamund.
It was night, and in their lamp-lit chapel the Virgins of theHoly Cross upon bended knees chanted the slow and solemnMiserere. From their hearts they sang, to whom death anddishonour were so near, praying their Lord and the mercifulMother of God to have pity, and to spare them and theinhabitants of the hallowed town where He had dwelt and suffered,and to lead them safe through the shadow of a fate as awful asHis own. They knew that the end was near, that the walls weretottering to their fall, that the defenders were exhausted, andthat soon the wild soldiers of Saladin would be surging throughthe narrow streets.
Then would come the sack and the slaughter, either by the swordof the Saracens, or, perchance, if these found time and they werenot forgotten, more mercifully at the hands of Christian men, whothus would save them from the worst.
Their dirge ended, the abbess rose and addressed them. Herbearing was still proud, but her voice quavered.
"My daughters in the Lord," she said, "the doom is almost at ourdoor, and we must brace our hearts to meet it. If the commandersof the city do what they have promised, they will send some hereto behead us at the last, and so we shall pass happily to gloryand be ever with the Lord. But perchance they will forget us, whoare but a few among eighty thousand souls, of whom some fiftythousand must thus be killed. Or their arms may grow weary, orthemselves they may fall before ever they reach this house--andwhat, my daughters, shall we do
then?"
Now some of the nuns clung together and sobbed in their affright,and some were silent. Only Rosamund drew herself to her fullheight, and spoke proudly.
"My Mother," she said, "I am a newcomer among you, but I haveseen the slaughter of Hattin, and I know what befalls Christianwomen and children among the unbelievers. Therefore I ask yourleave to say my say."
"Speak," said the abbess.
"This is my counsel," went on Rosamund, "and it is short andplain. When we know that the Saracens are in the city, let us setfire to this convent and get us to our knees and so perish."
"Well spoken; it is best," muttered several. But the abbessanswered with a sad smile:
"High counsel indeed, such as might be looked for from highblood. Yet it may not be taken, since self-slaughter is a deadlysin."
"I see little difference between it," said Rosamund, "and thestretching out of our necks to the swords of friends. Yet,although for others I cannot judge, for myself I do judge who ambound by no final vows. I tell you that rather than fall into thehands of the Paynims, I will dare that sin and leave them nothingbut the vile mould which once held the spirit of a woman."
And she laid her hand upon the dagger hilt that was hidden in herrobe.
Then again the abbess spoke.
"To you, daughter, I cannot forbid the deed, but to those whohave fully sworn to obey me I do forbid it, and to them I showanother if a more piteous way of escape from the last shame ofwomanhood. Some of us are old and withered, and have naught tofear but death, but others are still young and fair. To these Isay, when the end is nigh, let them take steel and score face andbosom and seat themselves here in this chapel, red with their ownblood and made loathsome to the sight of man. Then will the endcome upon them quickly, and they will pass hence unstained to bethe brides of Heaven."
Now a great groan of horror went up from those miserable women,who already saw themselves seated in stained robes, and hideousto behold, there in the carved chairs of their choir, awaitingdeath by the swords of furious and savage men, as in a day tocome their sisters of the Faith were to await it in the doomedconvent of the Virgins of St. Clare at Acre.*
[* Those who are curious to know the story of the end of thoseholy heroines, the Virgins of St. Clare, I think in the year1291, may read it in my book, "A Winter Pilgrimage," pp. 270 and271--AUTHOR.]
Yet one by one, except the aged among them, they came up to theabbess and swore that they would obey her in this as ineverything, while the abbess said that herself she would leadthem down that dreadful road of pain and mutilation. Yes, saveRosamund, who declared that she would die undisfigured as God hadmade her, and two other novices, they swore it one by one, layingtheir hands upon the altar.
Then again they got them to their knees and sang the Miserere.
Presently, above their mournful chant, the sound of loud,insistent knockings echoed down the vaulted roofs. They sprang upscreaming:
"The Saracens are here! Give us knives! Give us knives!"
Rosamund drew the dagger from its sheath.
"Wait awhile," cried the abbess. "These may be friends, not foes.Sister Ursula, go to the door and seek tidings."
The sister, an aged woman, obeyed with tottering steps, and,reaching the massive portal, undid the guichet, or lattice, andasked with a quavering voice:
"Who are you that knock?" while the nuns within held their breathand strained their ears to catch the answer.
Presently it came, in a woman's silvery tones, that soundedstrangely still and small in the spaces of that tomb-likechurch.
"I am the Queen Sybilla, with her ladies."
"And what would you with us, O Queen? The right of sanctuary?"
"Nay; I bring with me some envoys from Saladin, who would havespeech with the lady named Rosamund D'Arcy, who is among you."
Now at these words Rosamund fled to the altar, and stood there,still holding the naked dagger in her hand.
"Let her not fear," went on the silvery voice, "for no harm shallcome to her against her will. Admit us, holy Abbess, we beseechyou in the name of Christ."
Then the abbess said, "Let us receive the queen with such dignityas we may." Motioning to the nuns to take their appointed seats.in the choir she placed herself in the great chair at the head ofthem, whilst behind her at the raised altar stood Rosamund, thebare knife in her hand.
The door was opened, and through it swept a strange procession.First came the beauteous queen wearing her insignia of royalty,but with a black veil upon her head. Next followed ladies of hercourt--twelve of them--trembling with fright but splendidlyapparelled, and after these three stern and turbaned Saracensclad in mail, their jewelled scimitars at their sides. Thenappeared a procession of women, most of them draped in mourning,and leading scared children by the hand; the wives, sisters, andwidows of nobles, knights and burgesses of Jerusalem. Last of allmarched a hundred or more of captains and warriors, among themWulf, headed by Sir Balian and ended by the patriarch Heracliusin his gorgeous robes, with his attendant priests and acolytes.
On swept the queen, up the length of the long church, and as shecame the abbess and her nuns rose and bowed to her, while oneoffered her the chair of state that was set apart to be used bythe bishop in his visitations. But she would have none of it.
"Nay," said the queen, "mock me with no honourable seat who comehere as a humble suppliant, and will make my prayer upon myknees."
So down she went upon the marble floor, with all her ladies andthe following women, while the solemn Saracens looked at herwondering and the knights and nobles massed themselves behind.
"What can we give you, O Queen," asked the abbess, "who havenothing left save our treasure, to which you are most welcome,our honour, and our lives?"
"Alas!" answered the royal lady. "Alas, that I must say it! Icome to ask the life of one of you."
"Of whom, O Queen?"
Sybilla lifted her head, and with her outstretched arm pointed toRosamund, who stood above them all by the high altar.
For a moment Rosamund turned pale, then spoke in a steady voice:
"Say, what service can my poor life be to you, O Queen, andby whom is it sought?"
Thrice Sybilla strove to answer, and at last murmured:
"I cannot. Let the envoys give her the letter, if she is able toread their tongue."
"I am able," answered Rosamund, and a Saracen emir drew forth aroll and laid it against his forehead, then gave it to theabbess, who brought it to Rosamund. With her dagger blade she cutits silk, opened it, and read aloud, always in the same quietvoice, translating as she read:--
"In the name of Allah the One, the All-merciful, to my niece,aforetime the princess of Baalbec, Rosamund D'Arcy by name, now afugitive hidden in a convent of the Franks in the city el-KudsEsh-sherif, the holy city of Jerusalem:
"Niece,--All my promises to you I have performed, and more, sincefor your sake I spared the lives of your cousins, the twinknights. But you have repaid me with ingratitude and trickery,after the manner of those of your false and accursed faith, andhave fled from me. I promised you also, again and yet again, thatif you attempted this thing, death should be your portion. Nolonger, therefore, are you the princess of Baalbec, but only anescaped Christian slave, and as such doomed to die whenever mysword reaches you.
"Of my vision concerning you, which caused me to bring you to theEast from England, you know well. Repeat it in your heart beforeyou answer. That vision told me that by your nobleness andsacrifice you should save the lives of many. I demanded that youshould be brought back to me, and the request was refused--why,it matters not. Now I understand the reason--that this was soordained. I demand no more that force should be used to you. Idemand that you shall come of your own free will, to suffer thebitter and shameful reward of your sin. Or, if you so desire,bide where you are of your own free will, and be dealt with asGod shall decree. This hangs upon your judgment. If you come andask it of me, I will consider the question of the sparing ofJerusalem and its inhabitants. If y
ou refuse to come, I willcertainly put every one of them to the sword, save such of thewomen and children as may be kept for slaves. Decide, then,Niece, and quickly, whether you will return with my envoys, orbide where they find you.--
"Yusuf Salah-ed-din."
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