Lady Sybil's Choice: A Tale of the Crusades

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by Emily Sarah Holt


  *CHAPTER VIII.*

  _*AS GOOD AS MOST PEOPLE*_*.*

  The best way to see Divine light is to put out your own candle.

  This morning the Lady Princess of Antioch visited the Lady Queen, andremained for the day, taking her departure only just before the gateswere closed, for she preferred to camp out at night. She is quiteyoung, and is a niece of the Lady Queen. After she was gone, we weretalking about her in the bower, and from her we came to speak of thelate Princess, her lord's mother.

  "Pray do not talk of her!" said Lady Isabel. "She made herself abye-word by her shameless behaviour."

  "Only thoughtless," remonstrated Lady Sybil gently. "I never thoughtshe deserved what was said of her."

  "Oh no!--you never think anybody does," sneered her sister. "I couldnot have associated with such a woman. She must have known what wassaid of her. I wonder that she was brazen enough to show herself inpublic at all."

  "But think, Isabel! I do not believe she did know. You know she wasnot at all clever."

  "She was half-witted, or not much better," was the answer. "Oh yes, Iknow that. But she must have known."

  "I do not think she did!" said Lady Sybil earnestly.

  "Then she ought to have known!" sharply replied Lady Isabel. "I wonderthey did not shut her up. She was a pest to society."

  "O Isabel!" deprecated her sister. "She was very good-natured."

  "Sybil, I never saw any one like you! You would have found a good wordfor Judas Iscariot."

  "Hardly," said Lady Sybil, just as gently as before. "But perhaps Imight have helped finding evil ones."

  "There are pearl-gatherers and dirt-gatherers," quietly remarked LadyJudith, who had hitherto listened in silence. "The latter have by farthe larger cargo, but the handful of the former outweighs it in value."

  "What do you mean, holy Mother?" inquired Lady Isabel, turning quicklyto her--rather too sharply, I thought, to be altogether respectful.

  "Only 'let her that thinketh she standeth, take heed lest she fall,'"said Lady Judith, with a quiet smile.

  "I?" said Lady Isabel, with a world of meaning in her tone.

  "My child," was the reply, "they that undertake to censure the cleannessof their neighbours' robes, should be very careful to avoid any spot onthe purity of their own. Dost thou not remember our Lord's saying aboutthe mote and the beam?"

  "Well," said Lady Isabel, bringing her scissors together with a gooddeal of snap, "I think that those who associate with such people as thePrincess Constantia bring a reflection on their own characters. Snow andsoot do not go well together."

  "The soot defiles the snow," responded Lady Judith. "But it does notaffect the sunbeam."

  "I do not understand you," said Lady Isabel bluntly.

  "Those who confide in their own strength and goodness, Isabel, are likethe snow,--very fair, until sullied; but liable to be sullied by theleast speck. But those who take hold of God's strength, which is Christour Lord, are the sunbeam, a heavenly emanation which cannot be sullied.Art thou the snow, or the sunbeam, my child?"

  "Oh dear! I cannot deal with tropes and figures, in that style,"answered she, rising. "And my work is finished; I am going now."

  I fancied she did not look very sorry for it.

  Great events are happening. The Lord King, finding his malady growsrather worse than better, has resolved to abdicate, in favour of hisnephew, Lady Sybil's baby son. So to-morrow Beaudouin V. is to beproclaimed throughout the Holy City, and on the Day of Saint Edmund theKing,[#] he will be crowned in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Theysay the Lord King was a very wise man before he became a mesel; and hewill still give counsel when needed, the young King being but threeyears old.

  [#] Nov. 20.

  I do not quite see what difference the abdication will make. Guy muststill remain Regent for several years, and the only change is that hewill govern for his step-son instead of his brother-in-law. And I feel alittle jealous that Lady Sybil should be passed by. She, not her son,is the next heir of the crown. Why must she be the subject of her ownchild, who ought to be hers? I really feel vexed about it; and so doesGuy, I am sure, though he says nothing--at least to me. As to LadySybil herself, she is so meek and gentle, that if a beggar in the streetwere put over her head, I believe she would kneel to do her homagewithout a cloud on her sweet face.

  However, I felt at liberty to say what I thought to Amaury, though Iseldom do it without being annoyed by his answer. And certainly I wasnow.

  "She! She's a woman," said Messire Amaury. "What does a woman knowabout governing?"

  "What does a baby know?" said I.

  "Oh, but he will be a man some day," answered Amaury.

  "But Guy will govern in either case," I replied, trying not to be angrywith him.

  He is so silly, and he thinks himself so supremely wise! I do believe,the more foolish people are, the wiser they think themselves.

  "Ha!" said he. "Saving your presence, Damoiselle Elaine, I am not sosure that Guy knows much about it."

  "Amaury, thou art an idiot!" cried I, quite unable to bear any longer.

  "I believe thou hast told me that before," he returned with provokingcoolness.

  I dashed away, for I knew I might as well talk to Damoiselle Melisende'spet weasel.

  I do not like the Count of Tripoli. The more I see of him, the less Ilike him. And I do not like his fawning professions of friendship forGuy. Guy does not see through it a bit. I believe he only means to useGuy as a ladder by which to climb himself, and as soon as he is at thetop, he will kick the ladder down behind him.

  Did I not say that Amaury was an idiot? And is it not true? Here isour sister Eschine the mother of a pretty little baby, and instead ofbeing thankful that Eschine and the infant are doing well, there goesAmaury growling and grumbling about the house because his child is agirl. Nay, he does more, for he snarls at Eschine, as if it were herfault, poor thing!

  "She knows I wanted a boy!" he said this morning.

  Men are such selfish simpletons!

  To see how coolly Eschine takes it is the strangest thing of all.

  "I was afraid he would be disappointed," she said calmly. "You see, mendon't think much of girls."

  "Men are all donkeys," said I, "and Amaury deserves to be king of thedonkeys."

  Eschine seemed to think that very funny.

  "Come, Elaine, I cannot let thee say that of my lord, and sit silent.And I think Messire Homfroy de Tours quite as well qualified for theposition."

  "Ah," said I, "but Lady Isabel keeps her curb much tighter than thou. Ireally feel almost sorry for him sometimes, when she treats him like ababy before all the world."

  "She may do that once too often," said Eschine.

  Amaury means to call the baby Heloise--for a reason which would neverhave occurred to any one but himself--because we have not had that namein the family before. And Eschine smilingly accepts it, as I believeshe would Nebuchadnezzar if he ordered her.

  To-day the little King was crowned in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre,at noon; and in the evening the Damoiselle Heloise de Lusignan wasbaptized into the Fold of Christ. The King was very good: I think heinherits much of his mother's sweet disposition. I cannot say as muchfor my small niece, for she cried with all her heart when the holyPatriarch took her in his arms; and he said it showed that Satan musthave taken strong possession of her, and was very hard to dislodge. Butno sooner had the holy cross been signed on her, and the holy Patriarchgave her back into the arms of her nurse, than, by the power of ourLord, she was quite another creature, and did not utter a single cry.So wonderful and effectual a thing is the grace of holy baptism!

  "Much effect it took on thee, then," growled Amaury, to whom I saidthis; "for thou didst wait until the water touched thy face, and thendidst set up such screams as never were heard from mortal babe before."

  "What dost thou know about it?" said I.

  "Ha! Don't
I?" answered he provokingly.

  I have been amused to hear the different ideas of various people, whenthey first see the baby. The Lady Queen stroked its little face, andsaid pitifully--"Ah, poor little child, thou art come into adisagreeable world!" Lady Judith took it in her arms, and after rockingit a little, she said--"What possibilities lie hidden here!" Lady Sybilsaid--"Little darling! what a treasure thou art!" Lady Isabel's comment(for which I shall never forgive her) was--"What an ugly littlespectacle! Are young babies no prettier?" Damoiselle Melisende dancedit up and down, and sang it a lively nursery song. Guy (like a man)said, with an amused look, "Well! that is a funny little article.Heloise?--that means 'hidden wisdom,' does it not? Very much hiddenjust now, I should think." Amaury (that stupid piece ofgoods!)--"Wretched little creature! Do keep it from crying!" Andlastly, old Marguerite came to see her nursling's nursling's nursling.I wondered what she would say. She took it in her arms, and looked atit for some time without speaking. And then she said softly--

  "Little child! He that was once a little Child, bless thee! And may Hegive thee what He sees best. That will most likely be somethingdifferent from what we see."

  "O Marguerite!" said I. "That may be an early death."

  "That would be the best of all, my Damoiselle.[#] Ah! the eyes of anoble maiden of seventeen years see not so far as the eyes of a villeinwoman of seventy. There are good things in this world--I do not denyit. But the best thing is surely to be safe above this world,--safewith the good Lord."

  [#] It would have been well for Heloise, who bears a spotted reputationin history.

  "I do not want to lose my baby, Margot," said Eschine, with a rather sadsmile.

  "Ah no, Dame, _you_ do not," replied Marguerite, answering the smilewith a brighter one. "But if the good Lord should call her, it is bestto let her rise and go to Him."

  Again we hear something more of those strange rumours, as though thepeople were not content under Guy's government. But what does itsignify? They are only villeins. Yet villeins can insult nobles, nodoubt. Sister Eudoxia (who was here again yesterday) says they actuallytalk of a petition to the King, to entreat him to displace Guy, and setsome one else in his stead. The thought of their presuming to have anidea on the question! As if _they_ could understand anything aboutgovernment! Discontented under Guy! my Guy! They are nothing betterthan rebels. They ought to be put down, and kept down.

  The Lady Queen has received a letter from her kindred at Byzantium, fromwhich she hears that the young Byzantine Caesar, who is but a child, hasbeen wedded to a daughter of the Lord King of France. Dame Agnes is hername, and she is but eight years old.

  I wonder if it is very, very wicked to hate people? Old Marguerite willhave it that it is just as bad as murder, and that the holy Evangel saysso. I am sure she must have listened wrong. For I do hate CountRaymond of Tripoli. And I can't help it. I must and will hate him. Hehas won Guy's ear completely, and Guy sees through his eyes. I cannotbear him, the fawning, handsome scoundrel--I am sure he is one! Theysay, too, that he is not over good to his wife, for I am sorry to say hehas a wife; I pity her, poor creature!

  Lady Judith asked me, when I repeated this, who "they" were.

  "I do not know, holy Mother," said I; "every body, I suppose."

  "I would not put too much faith in 'them,' Helena," she said. "'They'often say a great deal that is not true."

  "But one must attend to it, holy Mother!" I answered.

  "Why?" replied she.

  "Oh, because it would never do!"

  "What would never do?"

  "To despise the opinion of society."

  "Why?" she gently persisted.

  Really, I found it rather difficult to say why.

  "Methinks, Helena, I have seen thee despise the opinion of society, whenit contradicted thy will. Is it not more reasonable to despise it, whenit contradicts God's will?"

  "Holy Mother, I pray you, tell me--is that the world?" said I. "Becausemy nurse, old Marguerite, says, that Monseigneur Saint John bade usbeware of the world, and the flesh, as well as the Devil: and I am notquite sure what it means, except that the world is other people, and theflesh is me. But how can I be inimical to my own salvation?"

  "My child," said Lady Judith gently, "when some duty is brought to thyremembrance, is there nothing within thee which feels as if it rose up,and said, 'Oh, but I do not want to do that!'--never, Helena?"

  "Oh yes! very often," said I.

  "That is the flesh," said she. "And 'they that are of Christ the fleshhave crucified, with its passions and its lusts.'"

  "Oh dear!" I exclaimed, almost involuntarily.

  "Very unpleasant, is it not?" said Lady Judith, smiling. "Ah, dearchild, the flesh takes long in dying. Crucifixion is a very slowprocess; and a very painful process. They that are not willing to'endure hardness' had better not enlist in the army of Jesus Christ."

  "Ah, that is what I always thought," said I; "religious persons cannotbe very happy. Of course, it would not be right for them; they waittill the next world. And yet--old Marguerite always seems happy. I donot quite understand it."

  "Child!" Lady Judith dropped her broidering, and the deep, sweet greyeyes looked earnestly into mine. "What dost thou know of happiness?Helena, following Christ is not a hardship; it is a luxury. Thehappiness--or rather the mirth--of this world is often incompatible withit; but it is because the one is so far above the other that itextinguishes it, as the light of the sun extinguishes the lamp. Yet whowould prefer the lamp before the sunlight? Tell me, Helena, hast thouany wish to go to Heaven?"

  "Certainly, holy Mother."

  "And what dost thou expect to find there? I should be glad to know."

  I could hardly tell where to begin.

  "Well," I said, after a moment's thought, "I expect to fly, and to enjoymyself intensely; and never to have another pain, nor shed a tear; andto see all whom I love, and be always with them, and love them and beloved by them for ever and ever. And there will be all manner ofdelights and pleasures. I cannot think of anything else."

  "And that is thy Heaven?" said Lady Judith, with a smile in which Ithought the chief ingredient was tender compassion, though I could notsee why. "Ah, child, it would be no Heaven at all to me. Verily, 'as aman thinketh in his heart, so is he.' Pleasure, and ease, and earthlylove--these are thy treasures, Helena. 'For where thy treasure is,there shall thine heart be.'"

  "But what is the matter with my Heaven?" said I, feeling a littleaggrieved.

  "Why, my child, thou hast left out the central figure. What were acoronation if there were no king? or a wedding where there were nobride? Why, what was left would be equivalent to nothing. Ask thine oldnurse, and see if thy Heaven would satisfy her. Ah, 'whom have we inHeaven but _Thee_? and there is none upon earth that we desire incomparison of Thee!' Old Marguerite understands that. Dost thou, mymaiden?"

  I shook my head. I felt too mortified to speak. To have a poor,ignorant villein woman held up to me, as knowing more than I knew, andbeing happier than I, really was humiliating. Yet I could not resent itfrom one so high as Lady Judith.

  Lady Judith would have said more, I fancy, but Melisende came in, andshe quietly dropped the matter, as she generally does if any thirdperson enters. But the next morning, as Marguerite was dressing myhair, I asked her what her notion of Heaven was.

  "Inside with the blessed Lord, and the Devil and all the sins and evilthings left outside," she said. "Ah, it will be rest to be rid of evil;but it will be glory to be with the Lord."

  "And the pleasures, and the flying, and all the delightful things,Margot!" said I.

  "Ah, yes, that will be very nice," she admitted. "And to meet those whomwe have lost--that will be the very next best thing to seeing the goodLord."

  "Hast thou lost many whom thou hast loved, Margot?"

  "Ah, no--very few, compared with some. My mother, and my husband, andmy two children:--that is all. I never knew my father, and I was anonly c
hild. But it may be, the fewer one has to love, the more oneloves them."

  "An only child!" said I. "But Perette calls thee aunt?"

  "Ah, yes, she is my husband's niece,--the same thing."

  I think Marguerite seems to agree with Lady Judith, though of course shedoes not express herself so well.

  And I cannot help wondering how they arrange in Heaven. I suppose therewill be thrones nearest the good Lord for the kings and the princes whowill be there: and below that, velvet settles for the nobles; andbeneath again, the crowd of common people. I should think that would bethe arrangement. Because, of course, no one could expect them to mingleall together. That would be really shocking.

  Yet I cannot altogether make it out. If Messeigneurs the holy Apostleswere originally fishermen, and worked for their living--it is veryqueer. I do not understand it. But I suppose the holy angels will takecare to put it right, and have a proper barrier between the Apostles andthe nobles, and the poor villeins, who are admitted of special grace,through their own good deeds, and the super-abundant merits of the holysaints.

  In the afternoon, when Guy was in audience of the Lord King and the LadyQueen, and Lady Isabel and Melisende were riding forth, with MessireHomfroy and Amaury as their cavaliers, I found Lady Judith and LadySybil busy spinning, and I brought my broidery and sat down with them.We did not talk much for a while,--only a few words now and then: whenall at once Lady Judith said--

  "Helena, wilt thou try this needle for thy work?"

  I took the needle, and threaded it, and set to work again: but I foundto my surprise that I could not get on at all. The needle would hardlygo through the silk, and it left an ugly hole when it did. Lady Judithwent on with her spinning for a few minutes, but at length she looked upand said--

  "Well, Helena, how dost thou like that needle?"

  "Not at all, holy Mother, if it please you," said I, "for I cannot geton with it."

  She selected another, and gave it me.

  "Oh, this is beautiful for broidery!" I said; "so fine and sharp."

  "It is the answer to a question thou wert asking me yesterday," saidLady Judith, "and I gave thee no reply. Canst thou guess what thequestion was?"

  I could not, and said so. I did not remember asking anything that hadto do with needles, and I never thought of any hidden meaning.

  "Thy question was, What is the world?--and, what harm does the world doto us? That needle that I first gave thee has its point blunted. Andthat is what the world does to a child of God. It blunts his point."

  "I do not understand," said I.

  "Little Helena," said Lady Judith, "before a point can be blunted, theremust be one to blunt. Thou couldst not sew with a wooden post. So,before the world can injure thy spiritual life, there must be spirituallife to injure. There is no poison that will harm a dead man."

  "But, holy Mother, are there two worlds?" said I. "For religiouspersons give up the world."

  "My child, thine heart is a citadel which the foe can never enter,unless there be a traitor within the walls to open the postern gate.But there is such a traitor, Helena; and he is always on the watch. Bethou ever on the watch too. Yet another matter stands first:--Whoreigns in thy citadel? Hast thou ever given thine heart to God,maiden?"

  "Can I give my heart, holy Mother? It seems to me that love is ratherlike a plant that grows, than like a treasure that is given."

  "Thou art right: but the planting must be sometime. Hast thou everasked God to take thine heart? For as a holy man of old hath said,--'IfThou leave me to myself, I shall not give it Thee.'"

  I shook my head. It all sounded strange to me.

  "If the usurper is in the citadel, dear child, he will hold the gatesagainst the rightful King: and, Helena, there are no traitors in Hiscamp. Thou art not a sword, nor a shield, which can do nothing ofitself; but a human creature with a living will, which can choose eitherto open the gates to the King, or to shut them against His trumpeterwhen He sends thee summons to surrender. Nay, thou not only canstchoose; thou must: at this moment, at every moment, thou art choosing.What message hast thou sent back to thy rightful Lord, both by right andpurchase? Is it 'Come Thou, and reign over me;' or is it, 'Go back toThy place, for I will have none of Thee'?"

  I would willingly not have answered: but I felt it would be to fail inrespect to Lady Judith's age and position. I stammered out somethingabout hoping that I should make my salvation some time.

  "My child, didst thou ever do any thing at any time but _now_?" saidLady Judith.

  I suppose that is true; for it is always now, when we actually come todo it.

  "But, holy Mother, there is so much to give up if one becomesreligious!" said I.

  "What is there to give up, that thou couldst take with thee intoHeaven?"

  "But there will be things in Heaven to compensate," said I.

  "And is there nothing in Christ to compensate?" she replied, with amomentary flash in the grey eyes. "What is Heaven but God? 'The Cityhad no need of the sun, for the glory of God did lighten her:' 'andtemple I saw none in her, for the Lord God the Almighty is Temple toher, and the Lamb.'"

  Lady Sybil seemed interested; but I must confess that I thought theconversation had assumed a very disagreeable tone; and I wondered how itwas that both Lady Judith and my old Marguerite spoke to me as if theythought I did not serve God. It is very strange, when I hear the holymass sung every morning, and I have only just offered another neuvaineat the Holy Sepulchre. However, Easter will soon be here, and I mean tobe very attentive to my devotions throughout the Holy Week, and see ifthat will satisfy Lady Judith. I don't want her to think ill of me. Ilike her too well for that, though I do wish she would not talk as ifshe fancied I did not serve God. I am sure I am quite as good as mostpeople, and that is saying a great deal.

  No, it can never be wrong to hate people. It can't be, and it shan't!And I just wish I could roast that Count of Tripoli before the fire inthe Palace kitchen till he was done to a cinder. I am white-hot angry;and like Jonah the Prophet, I do well to be angry. The mean, fawning,sneaking, interloping rascal! I knew what he meant by his professionsof love and friendship! Guy's eyes were shut, but not mine. Thewicked, cruel, abominable scoundrel!--to climb up with Guy's help towithin an inch of the top where he sat, and then to leap the inch andthrust him out of his seat! I cannot find words ugly enough for him. Ihate, hate, hate him!

  To have supplanted my Guy! After worming himself into the confidence ofthe Lord King, through Guy's friendship--ay, there is the sting!--tohave carried to the King all the complaints that he heard against Guy,until he, poor helpless Seigneur! (I don't feel nearly so vexed withhim) really was induced to believe Guy harsh and incapable, and to takeout of his hands the government of the kingdom. And then he put in thatserpent, that false Judas, that courtly hypocrite--Oh dear! I cannotfind words to describe such wickedness--and he is Regent of the HolyLand, and Guy must kneel to him.

  I could cut him in slices, and enjoy doing it!

  I am angry with Melisende, who can find nothing to say but--"Ah, thefortune of Courts--one down to-day, another up to-morrow." And I amalmost angry with Marguerite, who says softly--"Hush, then, myDamoiselle! Is it not the good God?"

  No, it is not. It is the Devil who sends sorrow upon us, and makes ushate people, and makes people be hateful. I am sure the good God nevermade Count Raymond do such wicked things.

  Instead of casting Adam and Eva out of Paradise,--Oh why, why did thegood God not cast out the Devil?

  "Is my Damoiselle so much wiser than the Lord?" quietly asks Marguerite.

  I cannot understand it. The old cry comes up to me again,--Oh, if Icould know! Why cannot I understand?

  And then Lady Judith lays her soft hand on my head, and says words whichI know come from the holy Evangel,--"'What I do, thou knowest not now.'"Ay, I know not I must not know. I can only stretch forth appealinghands into the darkness, and feel nothing. Not like her and Marguerite.They too stretch forth h
elpless hands into the darkness, but they findGod.

  It must be a very different thing. Why cannot I do the same? Is He notwilling that I should find Him too?--or am I not worthy?

  I suppose it must be my fault. It seems as if things were always one'sown fault. But I do not think they are any better on that account;especially when you cannot make out where your fault lies.

  Guy behaves like a saint. He does not see any fault in Count Raymond: Ibelieve he won't. Lady Sybil, poor darling! looks very grieved; but notone word of complaint can I get her to utter.

  As to Amaury, when I have quite finished slicing up the Count, if hedoes not mind, I shall begin with him. What does he say but--"Well, agreat deal of it is Guy's own fault. Why wasn't he more careful?Surely, if he has any sense, he might expect to be envied andsupplanted, when he had climbed to such a height."

  "If he has any sense!" Pretty well for Messire Amaury!

 

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