TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION! STORIES FOUNDED 0N

 

 

 

 

$2.50 a. year. Ente;ed tt 2st Office at NewYork, N. Y., as com! Class Man Matter. Copyrighted in 1882 by 13an m Anus July 12, 1882.

E v ‘ 7: v,

V 1  Sin. le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLB AND ADAMS. Price, N O 3 1
O - - Num er- No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. WW Centfl- - '

 

 

1

.    or, HOW A PAGE AND A FOUL SAVED A KING.

A STORY OF RICHARD THE LION HEART.

 

 

BY CAPTAIN FREDERICK WHITTAKER,

AUTHOR or “woons AND WATERS," “RIFLE AND REVOLVER,” “ THE DASHING DRAGOON,” ETC., ma, ETC.

 

 

 

 

OF A SUDDEN. YOUNG GILBERT DE VAUX BAN FORWARD AND DEALT THE BEAST A CUT ACROSS THE LOZNS WITH HIS R SZOR-IIK‘E CIM’ETER.

 

 

" of France.  i;

 

‘2.  - .

'assos eke Willie;

, ., attendant, a tru'
withevwhole

r

i

l . p

' The Boy , Crusader.

 

r’Tho Boy Crusader;

now i pace AND A roor.
~ savnna me.

‘a may or BIGEARDTHE'LION HEART.

.._._—..

BY CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER,
AUTHOR or “woons AND warns,” “mm
AND REVOLVER,” “run DASHING
naaooou," “run sworn)

PRINCE,” am, arc.

CHAPTER I.
'A‘BLOW Aim rrs CONSEQUENCES.

T‘EE brazen sky glowed ubovo the hosts 01
Crescent and Cream confronting each other
More Ascalon in the ear of Grace 1191.

The Mediterranean ea tossed in a confusion
of sparkles on one side; then came tawny sands

u le clifls, the gray walls of Ascalon, still
he b the Moslem; outside of all the brawn
hills 0 Judea, covered with tents.

Richard of England had sworn to take
Ascalon: Saladin to raise the siege. .

The Crusaders were gathered into a solid mass
of steel-clad. horsemen behind a white banner
wlii'h‘a red cross, under whose broadtolds rode
Richard himself on a black char er.

The, Moslems covered the h‘ , humming in
the Crusaders with their backs to the sea, and
their wild music grew wilder as the Arab archers
hovered round the Christian host, beginning

'the battle. . .

Suddenly Richard turned in his saddle and
looked back into the ranks of the Cross, where
the ii’lies of France and the black eagle of
Loopold, Duke of Austria, waved under his
orders. ,

There had been many 'ealousies between the
leaders of the Crusade, cm of Richard’s hot
blood; but the sight of a battlefield made.the
Englis . narch ready to forget and forgive
anythi to A

u o

 
    
   

. my brother of Austria,” he cried,
c' , ' “shall we not break a lance for the
ho .{otichivalry today:l Come, Austria, let
us h8"lfrlends, for who ows‘Wherq we may
sle to—nightl" , - , '

ke Leopold had a colddshllon look on his
face, as he answered: , ' ' .

“I, for one, ishollzsleep on m galley, no
matter how this battle/results. cam tired of
the haught bmfing‘of a‘mere vassal of France,
and leave lie-Crusade to- ' ht. Charge when
yam. please.“ It is the last ay I follow your
‘ nner. And! won] notdo it to-day but for the
entreaties’fimy b hprqour liege lord, Philip

sh ' ' ‘
I 'K.‘ ‘
‘ mound cameolose to
3 replaced by the
bum sai ins. shaking

I: P- 

  
  
   
   
   
   

A Richard "new
the duke, all 
palsness of bittel;
voice; 

“1 hold m v

 

. 9 i , '
“Vassal of w: j liest,” Sneered the
duke, whose n =32 “aided in his'mind
andam u u r V ,kingsmotehim with
his gaunt ' i‘v ill’ thé side of the head,

4, . saddle before'all the

1 5&3, p y,st and go,” shouted Rich-
ard at be ac down and wheeled his
horse. “ 6 am, _, h, left to take the Sepul—
cher alone. N _ ' V _t gentlemen oi the
Cross, forward  d, and glory awaits

      
  
 

ghetmasn  g , I the banner of the
nuns .i “Bio”: .‘
There was awh ‘  “file Crusaders

   

I  a! doe‘ himself
. i -
 guitar thaw-[fl  Had the event
" edincam .3! tumult would have been
, tabl 'bnt ‘dy the archers of Saladin
were 3120 a.th knights’ horses, and Saladin
was nice 12 to be trifled with. ,
i ,The King of England took his lance from an
t blew out clear and shrill,
y of Crusaders, arrayed in
order; trotted forward in an imposin
,ph" , Q ,hifitli' with spears, straight tow
t e ' r

,W , 8a din.
' he battle hadbe un. . -

And as the Christians came the Arabs, lately
so confident, ,shrunk from before that heavy
mass, like jar-kale from the path of the lion.
‘The glittering2 figure of S’llallln, all ablaze
with jewals, as ‘e sat on hi~ hay mere in trout
0! his standard, .was the object of the charge

' 2,. and soon they were within ,a hundred yards 0 ‘

‘v ‘ , , . _  x”,
. .,. ,4

'wonted anxiety. .Bic rd

keep from

 

him, when the ne ro guard of the sultan broke
and fled in conqu on.
The dauntless Saladin, left all alone, plucked

up his standard with his own hand, waved it ’

defiantly at the Crusaders, and centered off, as
it- courting pursuit. “

The tem tation was great, and a cry arose
from the rusaders:

“ Saladin, Saladin! After him I”

In a moment the steady ranks began to break,
when the powerful voice of Richard of Eng-
land shouted above the clamor;

“ To your ranks! Let not a man go!”

But ere he could enforce his order, several

' bands had broken away, and were racing

wildly 011‘; in pursuit of the glittering figure of
the sultan.

Thou Richard raged over the field, staying
the charge to a be t, and finally succeeded in
gathering his men together again.

The scattered bands following Saladin had
given‘up the chase in disgust, all but one.

A gray-headed knight followed by his squire
and pa e, and twenty latices, outstripped the
rest an went racing after the banner till they
vanished among the hills.

And still they_could not come near the fleet
bav mare of the sultan.

The old knight and the page rode far ahead
of the rest, but the squire, who from the first
had kept lookin around him, was now pulling
at his horse in rout of the men-at arms.

' Presently the scattered Saracens, accustomed

to such sudden shifts of fortune, begun to turn
their horses and swoop down from all quarters
on the handful of Christians.

Prince Faris, chief of the Shammar Bedouins,
brought down his wild Arabs in clouds of dust,
and came tearing to the rescue of his sultan.

The squire saw the danger, turned his horse,
and shouted to.his men:

“ Save yourselves! Back to the banners! We
are lost 1”

But the men-at-arnis cried out:

“ The ear]! The earl! Save him I"

For they saw the old knight and the page, al-
ready surrounded by a group of Arabs, and
fightingxfor life.

But the s uire heeded not the cry, as he
spurred his orse and galloped away, leaving
his chief to’ perish.

The little knot of men-at-arms, left alone,

made a‘fieroe charge on the Arabs, and drove

Elgem away, only t3) {had their legder dead (an
e groan a, 3 0y page estridiiigt e
bod , blood'mnning down his face from the
else of a cimeter, but all danntless still. The
Bedouins circled round them, shootin at their
horses; and every moment saw fres swarms
coming in, as the little band took up the body
of the dead lmight and tried to fight their way
back, but it was too late. I
a “i‘é’oflwn plt’th‘if‘m’éhthe s “m
Beer , ‘ a eir so. et :
and, one hyjone,“ they fell around the body hf
their dead leader, till Only the age was left.
Then the squire, who had he ted on a hill—top
out ofdan er of pursuit, saw the Arabs gather
round the hay, and when they galloped away,
only a heap o corpses lay on the ound.

A triumphant smile lghted u _ ‘ taco as be
timed his own horse an rode“, to the re-

united Crusaders. ' ' " * 2
“All one,” he muttered, "annuals the Earl

of East ngs now." _ ,, x ,
As he came u to the Christim'arm he met
'the King of gland , 1 ' a loo ,0! un-

' saved his'men
from the scattered on which ‘Saladin had
counted for ultimate victory but he did. not
seem happy or triump t as  (gut

“Who art thou, 5 one:  thou no a' fo'l- ‘

lower 0: the House 0 Vsuxl",
“I am Stephen de Vaux, sire,” waa‘the re-
tful answer but the squire‘s look sunk be-
am that of the ing. ‘

“ I thought so ” was the eager r 'ly. “ What
9P

0: thy master, t 9 Earl of Rustin ,,who broke
away? Is he hurt? By the 11 t ot'Heaven,
much ado to

’twas a knightly deed, and I
chewing him. it would not do.
This Saladin is a wary leader—but what of Has-
tingsl. Speak out, man. I. A malison on thy
stammoi'ingl Is the brave earl sate?” ,

“ The Earl of Hastings is dead, my bags ” re-
plied the squire in a .mourntul ' .,£ ffAll his,
men are slain—” ” .

Richard interrupted him with a flercecry of
incredulity and anger. /

“Desdl My Hastings dead! And thou—"

He paused and looked hard at the squire with
an ession of (In: it and amazement. '

“ by, master 5 mile, there is not one dint
on thine armor! wt than with him ?”

1 The squire turned-deadly pale as he faltered 4
' ou : . ” l, ‘

“Iwas my liege.” ‘ ', ,

Richard’s face, grew black as night, and for a
moment he seemed about to fell t 9 other to the
earth. Then his mood changed, and a bitter
smile curled his lip, as he pointed to the distant
sea-shore, saying:

“There lies thy way. Take it. Hastingsis
dead from his own fault: but, before. high
Heaven, I would rather lie in a kni ht‘s grave
than live in a coward’s body. An thou art
the Earl of Hastings! GO ! ! l"

He shouted the last word in such a menacing
voice that the caitiff s uire wheeled his horse
and galloped away, in] speed, to the shore, his
face white with fehr, while Richard rode
gloomin back to hisarmy.

LeOpold olAustria stood on the. deck of his
galley, the dark look of‘bitter hatred on his
face. as his men slowly embarked, leaving the
lion-hearted king to his fate in Palestine; when
a boat, containing a single squire in armor,
came alongside,.and he was told theta man
wished to speak to him.

“It is an Englishman, and he saith he, hath
important tidings for your grace, touching
Richard of England." ‘

Leopold’s face darkened still more. His
brain was yet dizzy from the king’s blow; and
the public disgrace rankled deepest of all his
causes of gloom; ' “ ‘

“ Let him come,” he answered. “ If he be a
friend of Richard 5, I will kill him on’ this deck;
if a foe, I will hail him as my friend-W ' '

A moment later, Stephen de Veux, pale and
gloom , as the duke himself, stood beside him
and as ed in a low tone:

“What will the Duke of Austria give the
man who will bring him his vengeance on
Richard?” ~

Leopold’s face lighted up with the malignant
joy of a fiend. ,

“Give me the vengeance and name thyro-
ward," was all his answer. 1

The squire came closer and said, almost in a
whisper:

“My master, who was my uncle, was ester-
day the trusted counselor of Richard. o~day
he is dead, and I am Earl of Hastings. The
king has disgraced me for not dying with my
master.”

“Well, what of that?” asked the duke, ‘sul-
lenlyl. “ Is that all thou best to say?” ‘

“ o," answered the squire, in the same tone
of mystery; “but I have in my possession the
road b which Richard will return to England.
He wi l Ipass through your dominions in dis-
guise. s that enough? ’* » , L

The duke looked doubtful. » “xi .

" How shall'I be sumo: this?” he asked; “ He
maly stay here and  Saladinl”

he squiresmiled an evil smile.

“ I heard him tell mymaster, only yesterday
that the desertion of rance and Autrie be
rendered his successi 'ble. Let him only
take Ascalon, as he " sworn, andhe will make
a truce with Saladin and homo”,  \

' “ That is well." return the duke; “but how
shall I know he compo through my dominions,
when he may go by cedar by way of France!”

“,He cannot o by sea, for the Moors have
the gates of ibraltar. He dare not pass
through France, for Philip hath sworn tomake
him do full homage for uitaine. . Only the
way of Venice remains, and I will disband his
men at hits and return in a small vessel dis- ’
guised aea merchant. My life may answer for
my truth.” »

eopold’s face had cleared up as the uire
roceeded, and when he had finished, the like
urst into a laugh of ferocious glee as he cried

ut: .

“ let the 1101i of‘England look to his claws.
. I will clip them so clone a child may spit in his
face unharmed.” .

CHAPTER II.
Tim man’s QUEST. ‘
Tim city‘s! Damascus on a moonlight night
is one of t fairest ts on ‘ earth today, and
in crusading  t was a city of palaces,
music and mirth. ' . ' ,
When the sun links to ' ,r st behind the
cedars of Lebanon, and flat ~ n hangs in
the sky over the yellow desert,

k.

0

its best and loveliest.
So it seemed to a hungr¥vand rag ed Way-
farer who paused at the estern to one,

spring day in‘ the year 1198. He was a thin.
long— egged fellow, with a long nose and chin.
twinkling blue eyes, and a mouth’ that seemed
set in a perpetua grin. '

 

amascus is at ‘

 

“c, MW...

 

, ing loud disco

The Boy Crusader.

3

 

His dress was particularly odd in such a.
vicinity, for its motley rags were those of a
Christian jester.

The bells on his cap and the comical-carved
head on his jingling staff were common enough
in Europe, but at the gates of Damasous they
attracted a crowd of Arab boys, who hooted at
the ragged jester and seemed as if they would
like to throw stones. _

A few grave Saracens sat looking on at the
tumult as if they cared little what became of
the stranger. . ,

The boys had already stigmatized the 'ester
as a “ dog,” “infidel,” “chlld of the devil, ’ and
such like pretty names, when he suddenly ut-
tered a loud bowl, and began to turn summer-
sets and hand-springs like a wheel, rolling
toward them. ,

This was a manner of retaliation to which
they were so unaccustomed that it fri htened
them amazingly, and with one accord t ey ran
away at full speed, leaving the ragged jester
alone at the gate.

He picked himself up and looked after them
in a derisive way. and he said in English:

“ A fool’s tumble will save a fool’s head, but
the fool of all fools is the fool who follows his
master into slavery. Watkin Wilkin, thou hast
fared ill as a freeman, but the slave envies the

.free be gar. Come on, fool.” 1

He 3 lked forward to the grave grou of
Saracens, flourishing his jester’srstaif, jing ing
his bells and grimacmg in an uncouth manner
'bll'eflil bowed with exaggerated emphasis an
sai .-

“Salaam alei‘koum” (Peace be unto you),
the ordinary Arabic salutation.

This courtesy brou ht forward the regular
reply, “Aleikoum sa aam" (Unto you peace);
’but the grave men at the gate could not help a
curious gaze at the stranger.

Then the jester proceeded, in the sort of
mixed dialect then common in the East made
16p of different languages, something like the

hinese pi eon-English of to-day. ,1

“Why are ye, sirs? Am I not a man like
yourselves? Nay, for I am more, bein a fool.

ow ye a Christian slave here, a slight fair
boy, called Gilbert? I seek him.”

One of the Arab citizens answered by a coun-
ter uestion:

“ ow camest thou hither alone” No Chris-
tian can enter Damascus, save as a slave.”

“Said I not I was a fool, masters?” was the
jester’s reply. “I came on my feet, and I am
re y tobe a slave, if I can choose my master.
Again, do ye know a boy slave named Gilbert,
w th fair hair?" \.

The Arabs shrugged their shoulders indiffer-
entl and made no reply. The queer' attire of
the {ester had at first interested them; but, as
soon as they found he was not mad, but only
acting a part, they became callous.

The jester looked worn and bun

V in spite
of his assumed cheerfulness, and

counte-

nance fell as he looked in 'those grave stonyi

faces.

He seemed as if about entering the gate of
the city, when the sound of martial music in
the desert arrested his attention, and he beheld
a brilliant cavalcade coming toward the western
gate 1’) a circuit round the walls of the city.

The ester be to leap up in the air, utter-
t cries, throwing back sum-
mersets and doing all'sorts of queer antics in

front of the gate as this cavalcad‘e approached.
Presently an officer and some soldiers came out
and the officer called angrily to his men:

“What does this madman here, when the
great Malek AlfNasser Salahi Deen Yusuf is
comigg? Cut him topieces with your swords,
men.

'But the jester understood him too well to per-
mit any such thing. Before the keen blades
could near him, he had lcapfid to his‘ feet, dealt
one of the men a kick m the stomach which
doubled him up, and then fled like a deer to-
ward the cavalcade, which was headed by the
Sultan Saladln himself, returning from a short
ride in the desert. ,

As he went, he leaped up in the air and sent
forth a series of Wild yells of laughter that
made him seem more like a maniac thanever.

, He met the sultan (who rode on as if he
saw him not) and returned with him to the
gate, still caperin and dancing before the
horses, till they ha entered the charmed limits
of the sacred city and were treading its streets.

As the wild Jester had foreseen, no one dared
to molest him before the sultan, wlhc rode
calmly on as if he saw not the antics of the

.man beme him. A nod of Saladin’s head, the
lifting of a finger, would have been the signal

> I for the seeming msuiac’s death; but the mom

 

arch of the East gave no token of such a will,
and none-dared interfere. v

Thus they. assed through the streets of
Damascus to t e great palace, where Saladin
was about to dismount, when the jester sprung
to his stirrup before a slave could approach,
and dealt such a. back kick to Achmet Aga,
Master of the Horse, who hurried to prevent
him as laid that worthy on the pavement,
gouhled up like the soldier had been before

im.

And then, for the first time, Saladin, who
seldom smiled, laughed aloud at the ludicrous
discomfiture of the stately Turk, and slowly
dismounted, leaning his hand on the jesters
shoulder.

The courtiers saw the action, and knew that
the sultan had taken one of his whims. Till he
chose to speak, the jester was under his pro
tection.

The ragged Christian seemed to know this;
for he kefiit close to Saladin, who ascended the
steps, sti leanizvg on his shoulder, and slowly
entered the Hall of Audience, where the pair
proceeded to the throne occupied by Saladin
when he 61' used justice. ‘

But here ourad Ben Cassim, the old vizier,
who had hitherto been spell-bound at the va a-
hond’s audacity, rushed forward and laid '
hand on the jester‘s arm.

“Dog,” he hissed furiously, “it is my place
to help the sultan here.”

The other looked round with a cool impu-
dence that staggered the vizier, and made a
mocking grimace,‘then lashed out as before
with his foot, and sent the stately Mourad on
his back.

In another moment Saladin was seated in his
chair, and the jester was crouched at his feet,
holding firmly to a piece of the monarch’s robe,
as if claiming protection.

The sultan looked round the hall, where the
courtiers had already set themselves in ranks,
as if at a regular reception, and spoke for the
first time: - a

“Is any man of my subjects in need? Let
him draw near." v

It was his ordinary form of opening a divan
of justice. No one spoke.

“Is an stranger in need i” pursued the sul-
tan. ” t him draw near.”
Up lea ed the ragged jester, still holding fast

to the re e of the monarch and cried: _

1“. Charity from Saladin to a foe in need!
Grant me my boon, as thou art a true knight.”

Saladin looked at him for’the first time.

“ How kn0west thou Iam aknight?” he asked
him rather sternly.

‘“ Because Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, gave
thee the accolade twenty years ago. I ask
'ustice of the knight, not the Moslem.” -
J

It was true. Early in din’s career ,when
he was a simple soldier, be had defended Alex-
an in, from one set of Mosh—ms, against, an—
other with whom the King of‘Jerusalem was
then in alliance, and had received the honors of
knighthood} from the predecessor of the very,
king whom he afterward drove from Jerusa-
em.

“ Say on,” remarked Saladin. “ What is
thy Wish?" , .
. I ‘Leave to choose my master," answered the
jester boldly. “I am a fool or I would not be
u Damascus; but being a fool, Ineed afool’s
choice.” -

Saladin'lifted his brows.

“ Choose thy master? Whom wouldst then
choose?" - v .

“ One Faris, a chief who holds my true
master a slave, that I may share his captivity.”

The sultan seemed still more surprised.

“Tell me thy meaning plainfiy.” ‘

“ Briefl then it is this. y old master is
dead but swore to in mistress to take care of
their son a tender litt lad, I being but a fool.
Being but a fool, I could not stop the boy from
being a Crusader, more fool be; but now has
come home my young master’s cousin who
saith my young master is dead. But I haye
since found that he is slave to one Faris, a chief
of the Arabians who lives in Damascus. There—
fore am I come to give myselttoll‘aris, for I
am strong and my master is but .a little lad.

rant me in , boon, great Saladin, and let
Faris take me help my little master.”

Saladin looked at him steadily for nearly a
minute, ere he asked in anfirave tone: ‘

. “ And hast thou come the way from thine
own land to Damascus to give thyself to share
thy master’s slavery?” '

‘Ay, Saladin, and ass. true knight thou
wilt 1pgrant my boon.” ' ’ ‘
“ hat sent thee hither?” ‘

’ \ .

 

Pf‘My fplly for one thing. I None but“ a fool

would take so much trouble for a boy who may
never thank him. But I am just such a fool.”
He sfizke bitterly, and the sultan asked:

“ W t is thy name, friend?”

“ Watkin Wilkin, the Fool of Hastings."

“ And thy master’s name?"

“ Gilbert (is Vaux, Earl of Hastings.”

" And how comes it that his cousin said he is
dead, if he be a slave to the chief Farisl”

The jester leaked gloomin at the ground.
“ Ah, there is what shows me a fool. He .was a
rich knight, and I should have believed him
when became home and said that King Richard
was drowned at sea and my master dead on
the field of Ascalon. But, being a fool, I would
not believe his knight} word; so I ran away
from the castle to see or myself.”

Saladin began to look interested and excited
as he leaned forward.

“ Is Malek Ric drowned, sayst thou!" \

“ So our new master, Sir Stephen de Vaux,
saith; but, havin found him in one lie, I be-
lieve this to he on y another.”

“ How cam’st thou to know it?” -

“Sir Stephen came home last year, with a
long heard on his face and a almer‘s frock,
and bore with him letters from rince John, to
say that my young Master Gilbert, page to the
earl, was killed, with his father, at Ascalon,
and that Sir Stephen was to be Earl of Hastings.
And Sir Stephen told us how the Turks had
killed the poor page, which I do not believe,
knowin none but a false coward would kill a
boy. hen he told us alsohow King Richard
had been drowned at sea, and that John was to
be Ki of En land. And he began to rule us
all wit a big band. Therefore, I, being a.
fool, stole from the castle one iii ht, and begged
my way to Jerusalem, where a it told me of
the boy slave of Faris in Damascus, and here I
am. Wilt thou grant me in boon?”

Saladin beckoned, and aris, Chief of, the
Shammar, advanced. '

“Son of Tellal,” said the monarch, “I (give
thee another slave. Take him and be kin to
him. for he is worth his weight in gold.” ,

The Arab looked gravely at the jester, for
even his fierce nature was touched by the man’s
fidelity. “I accept the gift,” he said. “ The
boy slave is in the desert with my poo le, tend-
ing the flocks. I will take the o d 
thither on the marrow." . ,

Saladin nodded. '
F “ Scuba it. Christian, behold thy new master,

aris.

And the jester laid the Arah’s hand on his,
head as he bow‘ed‘before him. I / ‘

CHAPTER III.
‘ THE DESERT.

Tn]: desert of Syria in spring time is a field
of flowers after the Winter rains. Purple stocks,
tulips,_asters, marigolds, wall-flowers and blue
geraniums cover the whole face of the country,
amid which the camels wander at will, cropping
the flowers, while the horses of the Arabs wade
knee deep in the verdure.

Out on the broad plains that lie between the
Euphrates and Tigris, the striped tents of the
Shammar were spread, surrounded by vast
flocks of sheep and camels, while the yous
men of the tribe were playiing the game 6
jereed in the open space in mi of the cam .

The few slaves of the wealthy chiefs
gathered to watch the sport, most of them‘
negroes, but among them were two who» White '
skins showed them to be Chri ' n captives.
'All looked healthy and contented at these, for
the Arabs are kind to their slaves; but on the
face of the youngest of these two was an ex-
pression of settled gloom, as he watched the
careering warriors in their sport.

He was a tall, handsome beget sixtee whose
wild life with the Shammar ad made h’ in into
a warrior‘before his time. Beside him stood
the uncouth figure of Watkin Wilkin, the Fool
of Hastings, the few re s of his old mode?
dress, that still clung to im, making hini loo
gaunter than ever. His face wore a look of
anxiety, as he watched his young lord, whom
he loved so well. \ ‘= .

“What ails ye, Master Gilbert?” at last he
said, in English.

The Boy Crusader ound his teeth, as he
looked at the charging orsemen and muttered :

“ When shall I ever couch a lance
them? Curses on my traitor cousin! h, Wat-
kin, to be a slave! Never again taco-1;- .
lance!" ' \ '
The jester smiled in his sarcastic way asks

to .
"We"might he in the saddle this very day,
master mine, but for the cause that has witched

re

‘all thoughth arms from thy brain so long." , ¢ ,,

 

ain like 

 

 

coward, fool. I will flee this verfi

‘ 5031131)” the road to England. ”

vs 1.. 1-3.

.4 ,

Gilbert flushed scarlet and darted an angry
glance at his faithful follower, as he sullenly
responded, half dreading reply:

“ What means the fool?”

The jester was spared the trouble of speaking,
for at that moment a troop of girls came trip-
ping from the banks of the Tigris, each poising
on her head the graceful water jar. They were
led by a. slender damsel, whose rich bracelets,
necklace, earrings and anklcts of gold, studded
with jewels, reclaimed her a chief‘s daughter.

All were is 0 simple tunic and sash of the
desert; all were unvailed after the Bedouin
fashion. They were singing as they came, and
their beautiful leader cast a shy glance and
sweet smile at Gilbert, as she passed to the tent
of Faris, for she was the Princess Amine.
heiress of the Shammar. The jester smiled
maliciously as he observed:

“There goes my meaning. But for the eyes
of Amina, we might see England, my master.”

Gilbert followed the girl with his glance till
she disap cared in the tent, when he gravely
remark : .

“Her eyes are naught to me Watkln. A
slave cannot lovee. Moslem maiden unless he
recent."

“Then why not strike for freedom?” asked
the jester, boldly. “ Now is the time. The girl
will love thee better if thou prove a man.
Trust a fool to roads. woman.”

Gilbert hesitated, still watching the horse-
men at their Wild play, and the jester laughed

bitterly. . ,
“I see,” he said. “The blood of Vaux is
tamed at last and you would rather turn

Moslem than bee. freeman. Let Stephen bp-
piress the vessels all he may; for the Earl of
astings is half a. renegade already, and the

Fool of Hastings was a. double fool to try and

beg) his master.”
ilbert winced under the bitter thrust, and
angrily rotor-ted:

“Thou knowest ’tis false, Watkin. I am 'no
renegade."

The jester laughed in the same sheeting way.

“ Then it is fear of Stephen kee thee. True,
he is a rough jouster, and could r do thee down
like a chil asthou art."

The boy’s eyes flashed fire, and he stamped his
foot fiercely as he cried:

“ I will show thee if Vaux of Hastings is a
' moment. ”
, Watkin’s face lighted up joyfu .
' “There I he my true master.
see Englan again.”

Gilbert turned and strode toward the tent of
Faris, where the chief’s favorite mares, Selima

ow we shall

' r and Fatima, stood tethered.
The Prince of the Shammar was asleep in the ,
, inner tent; for he had been sick for some days,

and had but just recovered.

Gilbert turned at the door
sentful tone to the jester:

“Now thou shalt see if three years’ slavery
have made me forget my father’ll teachings.
See that thou dare ollow me."

Watkin laughed aloud for jo .

“ Follow m master? Kay,
far to leave h In now.”

The boy’s face relaxed into a. kinder expres-
sion as he gruped the ester’s hand, saying:

"‘ My own true Wat in, forgive thy master.
Thou art the cal true vessel to Vaux. Now,
Stephen, lookto hyself. To horse!”

As he spoke, helplucked from the ground the
plumed lance of aria, to which one of the
mares was fastened b the halter, and Watkin
followed his exampe with the other more.
The beatfltiliiul creams-es knew1 lthem and whin-
nied oy u y, expec ing age op.

_ '1 3if action at first attracted little attention,
for i was common for the slaves to take the
chief’s horses to water. '

But no sooner had be mounted the beautiful
’mare than Gilbert shouted aloud before the

and said inn re-

have come too

tent:
“Paris, chief of the Shammar, what ho,,

\Forlsl Thy slaves are escaping.”

Out rushed a. bevy of girls from the inner
tent, headed by Amine, and stood petrified
with astonishment as the young Christian shook

‘ the long lance he held, and repeated his call for
Paris}

Presently the chief, himself appeared, rubbing

his eyes, and Gilbert shouted:
“Farewell, Faris. My eople call and I must
Let him who dares ollow look to himself

he spoke the two wheeled their mares and
sped away at full gallop, while \Faris, recover-
ing from his stupe action, rushed toward the
jsroed layers, who were still intent on their

.,l|l r; -,-'

that t

 

The Boy Crusader. ‘

 

 

” Treasonl Pursue the Christian dogs! Cut
them to pieces!”

The game broke up in a moment, and the
wild Bedouins, who ad been tilting at each
other in play, turned their horses and tore after
the fugitiVes at break-neck speed.

As for Faris, he ran about the tents, tearing
his hair, till he spied a loose horse, when he too
mounted and galloped away in pursuit, leaving
the camp to the women, children and old men.

Amino. looked after them as they went, and
her eyes sparkled as she said enthusiastically:

“ How gallantly the Christian rides! Allah
grant they do not kill him.”

“They must catch him first, ” observed one of
her companions, laughing. “ The youth has
taken the best horses m the tribe. ”

It seemed as if Gilbert were rather a favorite
with the Shammar girls, on account of his
handsome face, even i he were a slave.

They watched the two swift figures grow
smaller and smaller till they were swallowed
up in the rolling sea of verdure; then the pur-
suers vanished after them, and finally the camp
was left alone.

The sun rose up to noon«mark, sloped again
to the west, and the shades of evening were
coming on, when at last they saw the lances of
the Shammar returning over the flowery plain.

Amino. turned pale as she watched them and
murmured to herself:

V“ Can they have taken him 3”

But as the returning horsemen rode in, it was
seen that they bore With them a wounded man,
who had to be su ported on his horse, and when
Faris dismounted)
bitterl to the Princess Amine:

“Th 3 comes of pettin the Christian dogs to

lease thy whims. The s ave is away with the
st maresin all Arabia, and he has speared
Haroun Abdul Karim through the breast.

“Look to thyself, Amine, for I have a sus-
picion thou knewest of all this; and, if it prove
so, by the head of the Prophet, I will slay thee
with mine own hand.” '

The glirl drew herself up and returned him a.
scornfu glance:

“ Since when has a Princess of the Shammar
forgotten to keep her honor pure?” she asked.
“ I never spoke a. word to the Christian slave,
save thatI pitied his lot. See that thou drive
me tonothlng more than ity.”

The an chief struck or a fierce blow with
his 0 on and as he cried:

" o the tent at once, and go not forth till
Hamel: Ferhan comes, to whom I have promised

thee. Away !” .

x The girl turned pale, and her 9 es flashed fire

as she went into the tent, mutte g to herself:
“ On thy head be it, Farisl”

That night the Bedouin chief sent out couriers
to all the bands of his tribe, giving the alarm
as to the escaped slaves, and next day the news
hadedspread over the desert with marvelous

5P9 -
But when, on the third dayeafter, came news
he mares of Faris had so soon crowing
the frontier of Palestine on the road to Acre,
which was then in Christian hands, Furl; knew
that the were past pursuit.

Full 0 anger, he sent for his daughter Amine
to come to him. -

The slave he had dispatched came back trem-
blin and stammered: '

“ on of Tells], the princess has fled on Abdul
Kerim's mare.”

And it was true. Abdul Kerim’s more, Za-
bora, the only one in the tribe that had been
ableto overtake the fugitive slaves, had van-
ished, and Amino with her.

Then Faris stamped his foot on the sand and
swore a great oath.

“Curses on her! She has fled to join the
Christians! I will follow her even to the sea,
but I will avenge my house."

CHAPTER IV.
BLONDEL, mm or sons. ‘

IN the wild passes of the mountains of Styx-i8
the poo is are, even today, rude and savage.
In the t mes of the Crusades they were a nation

 

. of flame robbers.

Yet, right in the midst of those ,
tudes, came ridin one day, at the peri of our
story, an Imam man, 110th dressed.

_His long fair hair Was arranged in a profu-
sion of curls, his attire was of velvet covered
with gold broidery, and the housings of his horse
were fit for a king ,while his servants behind
him led along a 103. ed sum tor-mule;

; Yet the master, was tote ly weaponless, save
forte ordinary - : :«:'=- which every man bore

at last before his tent he said,

soli— .

 

to use at table, and his frame was too slight and
delicate to have enabled him to fight well, had
he been armed to the teeth.

He carried, slung at his back, a lute, which
showed his calling to be that of a minstrel,
sacred in those days; and he sung as he went
along, snatches of a. mournful melody, which
ran 1n this wise:

“ Oh Richard, my king, is thy banner still fl ing?

Has it sunk in the wave, is it cast on the s ore?
Thy lady is sad and sits all the day sighing

For her knight and her king who returneth no

more. ‘
Oh Richard, my king, if thy heart can but hear me
And answer in music to so. thou art near me,
Sing, sing the old strain t at alone can now cheer

me,
And say thou dost love me once more."

But the voice of the minstrel had different
hearers from its wont in this wild pass, for a
group of half-naked, savage—looking moun-
taineers, who Were sitting round a fire in the
scrubby pine woods, heard him singin , and
leaped to their feet, catching up clu and
swords. One of them, a. huge fellow who
seemed to be their leader, cried out:

‘.‘ Booty at last, b0 5. ’Tis one of those
dainty minstrels from t e emperor’s court, and
they always travel with full purses and never
a. sword. Let us strip the ay gentleman.”

In a. few moments they ad spied the min-
strel from behind the rocks, and were running
down to intercept him at the mouth of the pass,
when one of the men called to the leader:

“ Ho, Black Caspar, here come two'more from
the other side, and they are armed.” -

Black Caspar pausedto look, and beheld, com~
ing up the pass from the south—the minstrel’s
approach being from the west—two horsemen,
w 0 carried long spears, but seemed to have no
armor.

“They are nothing but a pair of Hun rian
herdsmen, with their ox—goads,” he sai , con-
temptuously. “ Down and take the minstrel
first. The others are not worth robbing.”

The robbers stole down among the rocks and
dwarf pines till they came to the mouth of the

ass, whither the minstrel’s road must lead

im, when they hid themselves and waited his
up roach.

resently came a light, rapid patter of hoofs,
and the two strange horsemen gnlloped past
them in a direction to meet the minstrel, but at
a speed that rendered it diflicult, if not impossi—
ble, to stop them. had the robbers been so
minded. As, a matter of fact, such was not
their intention, thinkin , as they did, that the
men were networth rob ing.

As they dashed by, Black 'Caspar

violentlg and then stood looking stn ly after
them. uch men he had never seen fore, nor
such horses.

mmd'

The riders were dressed in a wild, fantastic ‘

fashion, with turban: covering steel on ,‘short
silk tunics over mail shirts, onlyvisib e at the

edges, while their bare arms and legs were ‘

oyiamented with bracelets and anklets of old,
and the were armed with curved, cime rs,
round b ck shields and long cane knees, that
quivered as they rode.

Black Gas or had never been a Crusader, but

he had hear of Saracens, and his Christianity '

boiled, up in an instant as he articulated:

“Holy St. Mathiasl The ks are coming
again tokill all usgood C ' nsl We must
have those infidels and purchase favor with the
duke by exterminating them.”

“ Easily said ” sneered anotherrobber. “We
cannot catch those fellows. I have heard that
the Saracen horses run like the wind.”

They witched the two Saracens down the
road, saw them meet the minstrel, whom they
apparently greeted cordially, and after a short
par-lay, the minstrel rode on again at the same
gentle pace straight toward the ambuscade,

while the Saracens walked their horses in the ,

opposite direction, conversing in an earnest
manner.

Black Caspar scratched his head.

f‘ Now, in the name of all the saints, how
comes it that those infidels greet a Christian
minstrel as a friend? He must be in league
with them, and if so, it is our duty as good sub—
‘ectg ’pf Duke Leopold to cut off his treitor’s

ea . . ,

Caspar had a. happy knack of callin religion
to his aid whenever there was a suspicion of a
chance to sanctity a robbery, and, now that the
minstrel come near, the splendor of his dress
made the brigand’s mouth water. /

In a few minutes more, the nnsuspectin
musician was in the midst of the ambush, stilgl’,

humming his melody, when Black Caspar ave _

the sigzéail, and a dozen wild figures lea out
and so the bridles of the two steeds and} the

l ,

 

 

 

i
j
‘ i
i

 

 

 

 “ 1' The Boy crusader. '

 

 

[ ‘ ,
sumpter-mule, swinging their great spiked

maces and shouting:
“ Get oflf, get off l Give up your purses.”
Neither of the travelers offered any resistance,
the servant evidently from fear; but the

, 'minstrel calmly said:

“ My masters, do ye rob unarmed men of my
profession in this land? It cannot be, if ye are
Christians. See, I have a Cpass from your noble
emperor himself, common ing me to the hospi—
tality of all good men. I pray you hinder me
no further, for I am on a Journey of much
moment.”

Black Caspar laughed coarselyxat the parch-
ment‘the other held out.

“ We in the mountains read nothing but the
weather! You have a full urse, and a full
chest of clothes. We are col and naked. Get
oif your horse.”

The minstrel pulled out a purse. '

“Take that and let us go. It will be better
for thee. If I am harmed, the Duke of Austria
will avenge me.”

Black Caspar laughed again.

“ The Duke of Austria cares not for the Em-
peror Henry’s letter. One would think you
were some great man to hear you talk, instead
of a mere wandering twanger of sheep-gut
strings.” »

For the first time the musician looked angry.
His face flushed as he retorted:

“I ornnt boor, knowest thou that I am
Blon el, the King of Song? Let go my rein
this instant and fall back, or I will have thee
torn to pieces by wild horses.”

As he spoke he lifted his light riding whip
and dealt Casper such a sharp cut across the
face that the robber instinctively dropped the
bridle he was holding, when Blondel wheeled.

. his horse, dashed in his spurs and tried to es-

cape.

But the sturdy robbers were not to be so
easily foiled. Black Caspar uttered a yell of
rage and rushed after him, swinging his huge
“ morning‘star,” an amiable weapon consisting

' of a staff, to which was fastened, by a chain, a

great 5 iked iron ball.

“Kil the dogs ” he roared.
down at once, foo s!”

And down they would have gone to a dead
certainty, when the swift patter of horse-boots
told of comin hel , and in another [moment
back sped the wo racens, making their long
Spears quiver as they came on, and shouting
fierce] .

The robbers had Seized Blondel again, when
their new foes made their appearance, and be—

“ Knock them

‘ fore they had recovered from their surprise,

Black Caspar and another bandit were spitted
like larks on the keen points of the lon Arab
lances, while the strange horsemen, ‘nging
down their incumbered weapons, burst through
their fees ere a blow could be struck in return,

and darted away down the pass. ‘
The robbers instinctively gathered into a
cluster and swung up .' their great “morninlg-
t,

‘ stars” to repel a second onset, (or they to

rather than knew, that those wild horsemen
had not fled.

True enough, one they had gone a hundred
yards they wheeled like hawks and came back
at the same tremendous speed, each bearinga
bundle of light javelins in his left hand under
his shield, another being grasped in his right,
ready to cast. ‘

The robbers rushed at them in the hope of
closin , but the Saracens were too wary, and
circl away out of danger, casting their darts
with fatal aim as they passed and laying two
moreIrobbers dead on the ground.

This was more than the undisci lined moun—
taineers could stand. The two aracens had

" already killed four out of the twelve of their

number, 33nd the survivors had no missile wea—
pons, W 1th one accord they ran away to the
rocks, where the horsemen could not follow,
and whence the robbers could send down stones
on their heads 11’. they tried it. .

But the minstrel and his Servant had hurried
away in the confusmn and four dead men lay
in the pass.

Then said one of the Saracens to the other:

“ We have saved the troubadour for this time,

‘ master; but these rocks are full of just such

thievestill we come to the Hawk’s Nest Castle.
IE: will never get there alive, unless we go with
m. ' '

This man spoke English, spite of his Saracen
dress, and his long nose and chln and blue eyes

‘ were unmistakably not those of an Arab.

hiThe other, a tall, handsome boy answered
m: ~

“How can we aflord to delay our journey
.for him? His way is nut toward our own lan ,1

 

and thou knowest that, while we loiter, my trai-

tor cousin lords it over the lands of De Vaux.”
' His. companion shrugged his shOulders.

“Bein but a fool, I give ,fool’s counsel,
Master ilbert, but methinks yonder. minstrel
might do us a better service than we think, if
we followed him." ‘ . .

“Why, why? What mean’st thou?” asked the
boy, impatiently, for he seemed to be of ardent
temper.

“Because I have seen him before and I know
him well. Yonder is Blondel, the King of Song,
as they call him.” . - ‘

The boy earl’s expression changed to one of
reverence and pleasure at once.

“ Blondol, the King of Minstrels, friend of
our own Richard! Now, by the light of heaven,
Watkin, thou sayest well! I would rather leave
my bones in these mountains, with the wrongs
of my house unavenged, than have one hair of
the great minstrel’s head hurt.”

Watkin Wilkiu — for the pair were none
other than the escaped Crusader and the faith—
ful jester—modded his head with a dry grin as
he got off his horse and drew the lances from
the pierced bodies of Caspar and his fellow rob-

ers.
' “ For all he be a king of song, he is a greater
fool than I, Master Gilbert, for he is on a fool’s

chase. I would let him go, were he not on in

hot scent as I think.”

“ On a hot scent,” repeated Gilbert bewildered,
“ What does that mean?”

“ When we overtake his ministrelsbip we"shall
see if 1 am ri ht,” retorted Watkin as be hand—
ed his master is lance and javelin. “ If I mis-
take not he hunts King Richard; and if he find
him. it willvbe well for us.”

“ Of course, of course, but if—”

“ But if he or we do not,” said the jester em-
phatically, “ we might do better to keep away
from England.” ' ,

“And why?” asked Gilbert hotly.

“ Because—with no disrespect to your young
worship—we stand a better chance of being
strung up for impostors than of turnin out
Stephen do Vaux from the Earldom of ast-
in , while Prince John rules England. That is
al , Master Gilbert.”

 

CHAPTER V.
nawx’s nasr CASTLE.

GILBERT DE Vauxywas a enerous and im-
pulsive boy, brimful‘ of chiva ry and romance,
and he was prone to need the cooler counsels of
the shrewd cynical {esten whose last words set
him to thinkin of t is real perils of the task he
had set befbre im _ -

With the impetuosity of youth he had
thought it only necessa for him to show his
face on the lands of De aux to be at once wel—
comed and to confound his villainous cousin
Stephen. Watkin’s words set him to a more
sober frame of mind.

“ Let us go then,” he said: and they shook
their reins and galloped off after the ministrel
and his servant, who were now trottin along
the road toward the north-east, muc more
re idly than they had come from the West.

at the fleet mares of Fat-is which had dis—
tanced the best blood of Arabia in the race

from the Tigris to Acreiulamd no difficulty in

catching up‘with the so r roadsters of the
ministrel and his servant, who looked round
with some apprehension to see if their pursuers
were foes.

As they ranged up beside Blondel, the min-
strel saluted them courteously andobserved:

“I owe on both much, brave Saracens, for
younhelp but I would not put you to further
trouble, if, as 1 think, you desire to accompany
me. Your'way, as you inquired of me, lay to
the banks of the Rhine; but this way leads to
Vienna and the Danube.”

Gilbert de Vaux bowed low. *

“My Lord Blondel,” he replied, “we are no
Saracens; but escaped prisoners, who owe their
lives totheir wits and bold hearts. Further,
we are English, and we have heard that King
Richard is still alive.” _

The minstrel started and turned with the ut-
most eagerness to Gilbert. , .

“ Where, when, what have you heard? Who
told e?” l

“ ay, it was but a rumor we heard at
Venice.” ,

,“Tell‘me all, gentle sir, in the name of our
Lady of Mercy,” saidgthe minstrel earnestly.
“ Ye know who I am and how I love my king,
as I search for him in every land. Tell me

your story. Who art thou, gentle youth, and

whose face is this with‘ thee, that meseems I
know so well.” , I .' i

l

 

 

“ 1’ faith, Lord Blondel,” replied Watkin with
one of his dry grins, “the minstrel’s lute and
the fool’sbells both make music: but the silly
world calls one ‘ melody ’ the other ‘ a jan le.’ \
I am Watkin Wilkin, the Feel of Hastings w n ,
I am' home; but here I am a tool at large, peril- .
ing my head for another man‘s interest, which ’, ’
is no concern of mine. Thou best seen me when '
my old master came to court, before King
Richard’s head was turned by the preaching

onks to go after Saladin, fighting for an
empty grave. ” '

“ And how came ye both prisoners?” asked
Blondel, who now seemed to be much in- ‘
terestcd. = .

“Simple enough, may master. The Earl of
Hastings had a son an a nephew, and was fool
enough to take both to the battle with him at
one time. It was too ood .a chance for ‘the ,
nephew to become an ear by leaving father and.
son to be killed. when he ran away. ’Twas not
murder, unless the Saracens did it.’ But the ‘
son was not killed, though the father was; and
I, being a fool, followed the son to prison.”

“ But how escaped ye?” '

“ Again, sim le enough. We stole the best
horses we co d find in the Arab camp, and
galloped off with the spears of two chiefs. Then,
being on the fleetest mares in all Arabia, we
thought it no shame to spoil the Arabians. So
we set on every traveler we met, till we had
gained armor and jewels, as ye see, my lord,
and here we are, with no friends but ourswords,
and no wish but to find King Richard.”

“ And if you, Lord Blondcl, will not scorn .1
our help,” pursued .Gilbert, “ we will see you
safe through these Wild mountains; for in sooth ~
they are not safe for an unarmed man, even it
he be a minstrel.” g

“Till we get to Hawk’s Nest Castle,” put in
Watkin, the ‘ester, “which is a good day’s
journey from ither.”

“Thou seemest to know this land. full well,”
observed Blondel to the jester inquiringly.

“I ought to,” was the reply. “ When a man
has trumped from London to Jerusalem on his
own feet, he marks those houses by the way-
side where he can et rest and food. The Gas-
tle of the Hawk’s est belongsto Duke Leopold,
of Austria, and is the only castle in these parts.

If, as they told us atlenice, the duke have
our king in prison, in revenge for the blow he
once gave him in Palestine, the Castle of the
Hawk’s Nest will be a likely place to hide him,
for none ever go there but the duke’s garrison.”

Blondel brightened up at once. for the poor
minstrel had been very despondent at his ill
success. I l i

“ God bless the hazard that brought us
together, good friends,” he said. “ Let us on to
the Hawk 3 Nest. Castle.” , -

“And when we get there,”.pursued the jester, ' Ix
in his usual half—cynical way, “if we are not
all fools together, we shall keepour business to
ourselves.” ‘ » ‘ ,

Blondellooked inquirin ly at him. . ' x ’ 4

“What meanest thou, mend?” r "

“I mean that none but a fool would too.
thief’s house and ask him to givé back w the
had stolen, unless he had enough men at his
back to kill the thief, my lord.”

“ Again,-I understand not.” '

“ Nay, then, the too] must cease talking para-
bles,” said Watkin, smiling, “ for wise men and ‘
minstrels need plain speech. I men Lord . * '
Blondel, that if were your lordship, would ,,
not be known here as the King of Song, last it ‘ :
arouse the suspicion of the lord ot.the castle. , ‘
All the world knows you to be King Richard’s 
friend, and your journey} hither can (1' have bull' -;
one'object, which, if the governor suspects, he,
will assuredly thwart i J’ . _

The minstrel turned to Gilbert and nodded his ~ ‘ I

 

head slowly. ; ,
“ The jester is no fool, gentle sir. He speaks
like a counselor. " ' > ’-
Watkin laughed shortly. .
“ I have known grave counselors eatef fools

than some who wear cap and hole. ,Suchlit ' r
was persuaded King Richard to leave his own r -, 
land to fight Saladin, that never harmed him. ‘
Howbeit, my lord, for all, King Richard played -'
the fool, we must help him out of his evil pligt‘ht. ‘
You, my lord, are a simple minstrel that as
seen service in Palestine, and we are your ser:
vants that came from Jerusalem With you. 80
shall we escape impertinent questions, if your
lordship will make us a fine romance out of your
own head, that has 5 un so many.”

 

Blondel smiled. he flattery pleased him, for
like most poets, he was very vain of his'own .
powers; ‘ ‘

“So be it," he assented. “I am of  ,
Provence, wandering troubadour, you are my V

 

 

   
   
   

  

I

 

«

 

 

jester, this is my page, and Louis! here is our
val-let. Let us ride on, friends.”

They trotted briskly along‘the mountainous
road, .which wound to and fro among the
passes, all day long, passing gloomy forests of
pine and 0a , as they gradually descended
toward the plains of the Danube.

They saw human figures every now and then,
flitting to and fro on the mountains; but the
size of their party and the lanccs of the two
seeming Saracens guarded them from interrup-
tion as they rode on, and they experienced no
molestation on their 'ourney.

Toward evening t ey came in sight of the
towers of a gray old castle, perched in a singu—
larly strong and romantic situation.

In the midst of a green valley, the first on
which they had come of any great size, stood an
abrupt gray mass of rocks, risin up like a wall
on three Sides, and only accessi 1e by a. broad
ledge, which ran diagonally u the fourth, look-

r' ing as if out there by the hum of man.

All round this gray rock, which stood at least
a mile from the nearest eminence, ran a. narrow
black stream, speckled with white foam streaks,
that told of hidden rocks, ending below in a
waterfall about ten feet high.

The only means of communication with this
rock lay in a narrow rustic bridge, and the
whole summit of this abrupt eminence was
covered with a. great castle, the foot of which
was fringed all round with a. dark border of
verdure.

The valley itself seemed to be given over to
forest and chase, but there was a. little mill at
the waterfall, and a few cottages clustered on
the stream below if.

“ Yonder is Hawk’s Nest Castle,” said Watkin,
sententiously, as he pointed to the gloomy

pile. , e
' “And who is the lord?” asked Blondel, wist-

' “his rein. “Wh

fully. “He must be a gloomy fellow, to live

, all alone there. ”

“ He has no choice,” returned the jester dryly.
“ Once he was a rich knight, but he went to the
Crusades, and now he is a poor one. The Duke
of Austria gives him men and mono for his
castle, but c has to stay"here and cop the
duke’s prisoners for him!)

”‘ And does he dislike the office?”

f‘ In good sooth, mylord, the Baron of Trink-
wohlis a good soul, who has a heart for the
poor and a taste for the bottle that will do him
credit in purgatory. He kept me a. week, tell~
l‘ng him stories, and I was the first stranger he
had seen for a year. We shall be welcome as
summer. See! Yonder rides the baron him-
self, coming in from hunting.” ‘

In I fact, at that moment, they heard the
mellow noise of horns below, and saw alittle
train of horsemen ride out of the woods ata
loot pace, toward the castle. The tooting of
the horns sounded very much as if some of the
party Were‘ more or less drunk, and Blondel-
smiled. 

“Let us on to the castle,” he said, as he shook

favorites, hospitalit is apt to be there too.”
They rode down t 19 pass into the valley, and

his prophecy was very soon fulfilled, for they

were spied from the castle walls, era they had

y‘ come half-We.

Then they heard a grand flourish of horns,
undo. couple of mounted men came galloping

’ toward them at full speed, revealing themselves,

_ as they came near, in the form of two fat. red-
faced men, in scarlet livery, with a. gold flagon
embroidered on the breast of each coat.

’ The flagou seemed to 'be upset, and a stream
was pourin from the month over the motto
“Trink We 1” [Drink well].

Both the servants pulled off their caps as they
came near, and one of them said in acordial
manner:

“Gracious gentlemen, my master, the Baron
of Trinkwohl, desires you will not do him the
shame to pass his castle without partaking of

1 \his hospitality. You are all most heartily

welcome.”
Blondel smiled in hi calm and rather frigid
rudiment): of one u ed to adulation and re-

ph :
“Tell thy master that Leon of Provence,a

‘ troubador from Palestine, with his servants will

accept his'lnvitation with leasure.”

. The jolly servant grinne from ear to ear as
he e'aculated: .
, ow praise to heaven, my master will be
delighted. We haVe not seen a troubadour

, since we went to the were three years ago. I

Swill prepare for your coming. gentle trouba-
our.

And awayvgalloped the two jolly servin -
men, as hard as their fat horses could 

r »

  

v

ere wine and the chase are

 

i

, The Boy Crusader.

 

them, while the jester observed in his dry

we. : , .

“yIf this be King Richard’s prison, methinks
he has the jolliest Jailers ever a prisoner had.”

“ Was be here, think you, when you passed
through on your way to Palestine?” asked
Gilbert suddenly. He had been very silent
during the day, as if brooding over somethlng.

“I think not, my master.” was the jester’s re-
ply. “The baron tells all his secrets when he
is drunk, but he neyer told me of this. Yonder
he is now at his drawbridge.”

 

CHAPTER VI. O
'rnn BARON or TRINKWOHL.

IT was indeed the Baron of Trinkwohl who
stood at the gate of his castle by the head of
the little bridge, waiting to receive his guests.

But he was a man of very different appear-
ance to what Blondel had thought, from the
looks of his servants.

They were all fat and jolly while he was tall,
thin, and had what had once been a handsome
face, new as pale as that of a corpse, with a red
flush beginning to come on his nose, while his
eyes were her and bloodsbot.

He was rich idressed in dark crimson velvet,
with a tall w ite plume in his cap, and he
bowed, with an uneasy sort of smile on his face,
an unsteady nervous quiver of his frame, that
told of long habits of revelry.

“ lVelcome, most welcome, gentle trouba-
dour,” he said. “’Twas a. Christian charity to
come into this dull place, to visit a poor gentle—
man like me; and I must not let ye depart till
we have drank the cellar dry. Dismount, Mas—
ter Leon, and these infidel gentlemen. Saladin
was a good warrior, if we did have to give him
a fight. Enter, m lord, enter.”

Thus he ramble on, rubbing his hands ner—
vously, till Blondel and his companions had dis—
mounted, when he threw his arm round the
minstrel’s neck and somewhat unsteadin con—
ducted him into the hall of the castle, where a
feast was already spread.

Here he repeated his welcome, with a mand—
lin earnestness that showed how he felt what he
said and then consigned them to his jolly senc»
schal, the same who had come out to welcome
them and who now conducted them to their
a artments where he left them, telling them
t at dinner was waiting when they chose to de~
sceud. ’ ,

“ This baron of ours has a secret on his mind,”
observed Blondel in a thoughtful manner.
I:Wz’is he thus when you saw him last, Wat-

in?‘ .

Tho jester shook his head.

“Nay; he was as jolly as his own seneschal
then, albeit there was not so much velvet and

01:11 ’in the castle. We must pump him, my
or . ’

Blondel nodded, and, after they had washed
off the stains of travel, they descended the stone
steps to the great hall, where they found the
baron waiting for them, still rubbing his hands
in the same uneasy way they had noticed be-
fore.

He placed the minstrel at his right hand, and
then looked doubtfully at the two seeming
Saracens.

“Will these gentlemen sit at table with us?”
he asked, hesitatingly. “There is wild boar on
the table but I would not ofiend them."

Blonde smiled, and told him that they were
escaped prisoners, when the baron cast a singu—
lar lance at both, and observed hastily:

“ scaped prisoners! From whence? I have
no risonei‘s. ’

on he rubbed his forehead in a confused
way and stammered:

“ I risk pardon. I forgot. You mean escaped
from Saladin. Yes, yes, those infidels could
not keep in a stout Crusader—ha! Yes. It
takes a good Christian to keep a Christian.’

And he laughed in a strange, vacant sort of
way, and then sto ed as if ashamed of him-
self, and slapped  ert on the shoulder, cry-

lfl I
I a Thou’rt a likely lad, and my hand is not so

steady as it was, butl think I could tumble thee
out of the saddle to-morrow in the tilt«yard.
We’ll try it, ha! Come, sit, gentlemen, for din-
ner is read . You are all good Christians, and
we will drink confusion to all false Saracens.”

And the baron quafled on? a. big 7 oblet of
wine at a. gulp, and then sat down anc did the
honors of his able with all the ease of one used
to good society.

Indeed, there seemed no clew to the sudden
changes of this singular man as the evening pro-
ceeded, for he seemed to grow more sober as he
drank more, and it was only when he paused

 

that one could see that his mind was decidedly
confused. '

He conversed about the Crusade and siege of

Acre, where he had been with the Duke of
Austria; told stories of wild raids among the
Arabs with’ a band of Templars; and final]
pressed Blondel to sing, while he listened wit
the utmost courtesy and apparent pleasure.
Probably it was by design that the minstrel,
after singing several lays of the s‘yle then
called “Romaunt,” suddenly changed his tune
ton sorrowful key and began the plaintive air:
“ 011, Richard, my king, is thy banner slill flying,
Is it sunk in the sea, is it cast on the shore—“
The sound of this air had a startling effect on

the drunken governor of the castle, for he

stopped beating time and swaying his head as
he listened to it, and sat like a statue, with a
still, watchful look on his pale face.

Blondel sung the song through with great
pathos, and there was a hush through the great
hall as he proceeded, the rudest vassal owning
the ower of the poet. ‘

hen he had finished. the baron remained
quite silent for some minutes, and Watkin, the
Jester, who was watching him closely noticed
two great drops roll down over his pale checks
on his huge blonde mustache.

Presently he said, in a low, broken voice,
quite husky:

“Where learned then that song, my gentle
minstrell”.

“ It is but a lay of Provence, baron, sung of
one of our kin 3, who was imprisoned in a fort-
ress like this y a caitiff enemy, who caught
him at advantage and shut him up.”

The baron nodded slow] .

“ And did the singer fin his master?”

“Na , that the song tells not,” answered
Blonde , lightly. ,

Trinkwo 1 heaved a deep sigh and then ave
a sort of suppressed laugh, as if somet ing
humorous crossed his mind, in contradictory
drunken fashion. ‘

“The king was a fool to let himself be shut
up,”he said. “He had struck his foe in the‘
face, and no man will forego an opportunity
of revenge for a blow like that.”

Blondel let his fingers stray over his lute, as
if in absence of mind, and asked,,carelessly:

“ How know you he struck him in the face?”

“Fore St. Catherine of the wheel, I saw it
myself,” growled the baron, his fingers clinch—
ing, his eyes fixed on the air in front as if he
saw some vision there. “He was my lie 0
lord, but by the tomb of our Savior, 1 feltt 9
other was better worthy a man’s love and duty
than the caitifl' Leopold. Bahl to ivc a man
the lie, and thou take a blow in the ace for it:
And yet he was my liege lord, and he were a
sword as I did. Hal had it been only me he
struck!” ,

His eyes glared and be ground his teeth

savagely as he looked up. The baron was get—

ting drunker than ever.

It was Watkin the jester who made a quiet
signal to Blondel and who slipped in the next
question: .

“But Leopold will have his revenge new, or
he is a £001.”,

The baron burst out into a fit of uproarious
laughter, and stamped his foot in high glee.

“ Revenge l” he shouted. “ Why he will
make this haughty King Richard be , for
mercy in this very castle. He calls himse f the
lion heart. We will see if he can keep the title.
The lion is here, and you shall see 5 ort to—
morrOW, my entle troubadour. We’l make
him fight the ion, bare-handed and naked. Is
that revenge or not?"

And heshcuted again for glee, then let his
head fall on his breast, and in a moment more
was dead drunk. \

Watkin looked at Blondel gravely. r

“He has told his secret. Richard is here,
and they will make him fight a lion lo-morrow,
if we cannot save him, my lord.”

CHAPTER VII.
LEOI‘GLD THE LION.

WHEN the next morning dawned on the lone-
ly fortress of the Hawk’s Nest, the three ad-
venturers were up with the daylight. and roam-
ing unchecked about the castle to explore their
resting-place. The few servants they met
looked sleepy and red‘eyed from the previous
night’s debauch; but they noticed that the
watch-towers and outer battlements were well
guarded, spite of the laxity within the building
and Bio e1 observed:

“1 fee that the king must be in this castle
somewhere; and if that drunken swine say true,
he will he in grave peril today. But he may
have lied. They have no lions—s”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

i.

l \ ‘

The Boy Crusader.

  

 

 

He had not finished, when they heard the
hollow rumbling owl of the very beast he
had mentioned, fo lowed by a series of convul‘

/ sivc roars that continued without cessation for
near a minute, proceeding from an inner court
of the castle.

Gilbert de Vaux listened intently, and when
the roaring had ceased, said in a low voice:

’ “That must be an old lion, and a large one
too. 1 have seen and heard many on the
Eu hrates, but none like that.” _

atkin, the jester, gave an affirmative nod,
and added: .

“They told me in Censtantinople that the
lions from Africa are large: and fieroer than
those of Syria. This ma one of them. At
all events, it shows that t e baron told truth in
his cups.”

Blondel had said nothing while the listened
to the lion. His face was pale and so , and his
lips were moving as if in pra er, though no
sound came from them. The in nstrel was com-
pletely overcome by the danger to his beloved

ing. thus made terribly resent.

“Oh, my friends,” be altered at last “how
shall we save him? He must not fight the lion.
Chivalry, Christianity, the laws of war all

forbid it. Let us leave this castle and flee to
tllie Emperor Henry. He cannot permit such a
t in

' atkin looked at the excited minstrel rather
more cynically than usual.

“Chivalry and Christianity will not save a
man from the lion’s jaws; and, while we are
fleeing to Henry, the lion may be devouring
Richard. My counsel, as a fool, is to keep a
still tongue and watch our time. We me get
a! chance to poison this lion before he ki the
king. Besides, who knows yet whether the
king may not kill the lion l" .

Blondel shuddered.

“Im ssible! The baron said he must fight
him he ed—handed. They dare not murder him
openly, for fear it may be found out, and they
hope to persuade the world ’twas an accident.”

“ Not so.” returned Watkin, in the same dry
manner. “Methinks a poet ma have less wit
than a fool at times. If the in l the kin and
his body he found, it ma recognize ; but
after the lion kills a man e eats him, and who
shall find a king inside a lion’s maw?”

The minstrel turned angrily away.

“A fool has no feelings," he exclaimed.
“This man would jest over Richard’s grave.
Prithee be silent, friend."

“Willingly,” was the quiet reply.’ “I ma
be able to act better than I talk, my lord poe ,
as you shall see."

_“Let us Search for this lion,” here put in
Gilbert. “The baron is sleeping of! his wine,
and the castle is open. We may stand a chance
of domg the beast a mischief unseen.”

. Watkin looked at him uneasily as they went
through the castle toward the court, from which
gifnléoaflng/Shu proceeded, and muttered as he

“Now, by St. Dunstan of Durham if thou
try conclusmns with the beast, it shall not be
Without a hacker. A poet can sing, but it takes
1; man to strike a good blow, even if he be‘a

oo .

_ They soon discovered the source of the roar-
ing to be in a remote court of the castle built
on top of a sheer precipice, and surrounded by
blank walls, from which no windows looked
down. The only access to this court was
throngha small grated door at the end of a
narrow corridor on which' they came by
chanoehand this door was locked.

. As t e approached it, all was silent for a
little whi e and Gilbert was about to put his
hand on the handle when Watkin the jester
pullefi him back. and inted through the grated
opening, which 3801- ed a view into the court.

“ The lion is loose,” he whispered.

Sure enough, as they looked throu h, they
saw the tawny outline of a large blacE-maned

lion. moving uneasily to and fro within the

limits of the court, its eyes searching the ground,
,as if seeking something. _

Presently the great t stopped and snufled
an. instant; then, With a perfect pandemonium
of eager roars, came leaping against the door
behind which they were listening and peepingY
with a shock that threatened to break it from
its hinges.

Blondel turned pale and shrunk back with a
slight cry as the solid door shook under the
assaults of the halfstarved king of the desert,
scouting its food. The sudden rush was enough
t6 shake any man’s nerve.

Even Watkin, the jester, recoiled a step before ~

the 12011. v ~
Bu the boy Gilbert, who had, as he said,

 

seen many a lion on the banks of the Tigzsis.

and Euphrates, where they are smaller and s

formidable than the African beasts, sprung

forward to the door in the very moment of the

lion’s rush and thrust his long Saracen dagger

1ligtween the bars of the litt e grating like a
sh.

When he drew it back it was all bloody, and
the boy hurriedly said:

“Come away quick. Enough for one morn-
ing'.h I will finish him later.”

on he put 11 his da ger, and the all three
stole away, hee ess of t e roars of t e impris-
cued beast, now louder than ever.

They soon came into one of the narrow stair-
ways that led up to the donjon hall through
the four corner towers, when Blondel whispered:

“ What didst thou to the beast, friend?”

“Put one eye out,” whispered back the un-
daunted Gilbert. “ He will have one blind side,
to ive his grace a chance for his life, Watkin
and I will do the rest, if we are near-him. And
now, my ‘lord, go into the hall first, for we are
your servants.”

Blondel preceded them into the hall, his face
much paler than its wont, his nerves trembling
with the excitement.

They found the jolly seneschal laying out cups
and flagons for the morning meal, and be greeted
them cordially:

“ Good morrow, lords. We must have
slept late last night, or your warships to get
the start of us. he roarings of that hungry
devil woke me buta while ago. He is a uni-
sauce.”

Blondel yawned, as if sleepy, and asked, in
an indifferent tone:

“Where do you keep this lion, and why does
he roar so?”

The seneschal looked grave.

“ We keep him in the Death Court, my lord,
and he roars because he is hungry.”

“ The Death Court !" echoed the minstrel,
“ What is the Death Court?”

The seneschal lowered his voice and looked
apprehensiver round, tosee if any one were lis-
tenin , before he made answer. jerking his
thum over one shoulder toward the baron’s
chambers:

“ He calls it the Death Court, for it is where
they used to hang all the poachers on the
forests,’thieves and murderers. But they are
not hung now.”

“ W hat then?” asked Blondel.

"'He gives them/to the lion, and there’s no
trouble about burying them,’.’ answered the
seneschal with a sort of rueful grin. “ It
frightens them badly, and the brute is likely to
go hun awhile; for we’ve only one pris-
oner in t e castle end he won’t make more than
two ,meals for old Leopold.” '

Blondel shuddered s ightly, and could not con-
trol himself enough to ask another question,
but Watkin saved him the trouble.

“You mean the fat man in the east tower,”
he said with a laugh. “He has grease enough
on his bones to last the lion a week.” »

"What fat'man? There is no fat-man in
this castle a risoner,” retorted the seneschal
testily. “ ethinks on ‘ esca d Crusaders
are given to dreams. ’Fhis is no at man, but a.
giant of strength, and I marvel much my master
can find heart to kill such a picture of a man.”

“ Why, what kind of a hero have «you here l”
asked Watkin, in his most cynical tones.
“Some big strongsheep-stealer, caught in the
act, or one of your mountain robbers?”

“ Neither,” was the dignified reply. “We
kill such fellows on the spot, and do not honor
them ,by imprisonment. This Is a "gentleman
of birth and manners and has been here nigh a
year. He is a troublesome man to wait on,
thou h, as I know to my cost.” V

“ ow was that?” asked Watkin, who knew
how to coax on the other. .

“ He threw me twenty feet away down a
passage once because his porridge had no salt,
and he killed a man. with a blow of his fist for
telling him.“prisoners could not be choosers ”;
that’s all. But, when he is good-tom red, he
sings to a lute and cracks jokes with t e baron
in a way that shows him to be a gentleman.”

Watkin grinned.

“They must be bad jokes if he crack them
with old Tosspot there. How does the baron
call him?” .

“Nothing but ‘ Sir,” answered the old son-
eschal, with an air of vexation. “ It is a strange
thing, but I do not know his name yet, though
»I am the seneschal of this castle.”

“ What countrymen is he?” asked Blondel un-

ardedly, but he saw his mistake a moment
filter, for the seneschal stiflened‘ up and'an-
swered rather sulkily: ' ‘ . . .

»

 

“You must ask that of the baron. Itis no
business of mine to tattle about my master’s

prisoners. ”

And he went on setting the table as if he re-
sented the question and wished to avoid further
conversation. ‘ ‘

Watkin made a quiet signal to Blondel « .
to take no notice of the seneschal’s sudden
assumption of reserve, and be an to talk
about the quantity of game-to be ound on the
mountains to which overture the other answered
in a more amicable spirit. ‘

“ "Yes, there is plenty of game, such as it is,
round here, but you should have seen the
baron’s place in Pomerania, where we used to
live. Ah, there was the game, and we had the
dogs to hunt it too—great beasts, of which a.
dozen could have pulled down Leopold himself,
spite of his claws and teeth. But we’ll never
see that place again. What with cuttin a fine
figure in the Crusade, diceing and drink g, all
my master’s fair patrimony is gone but this
beggar-1y old castle, and we could not live here
as we do but for the pay Duke Leopold sends
us for—” I

He broke off suddenly, for the baron himself,
his face sullen and moody, had just entered the
hall, and was coming toward them.

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE solve or BLONDEL. .

Tun Baron of Trinkwohl looked sulky, an
there was no disguising it. His ste was slow
and uncertain, his face of a. fiery r ver dif—
ferent from the pallorof the previous nigh ; and
a loomy frown pervaded his brow. 3
e hardly acknowledged the presence of his
guests of the previous evening, save b a short
nod; keeping his e as averted from t em: and
he began, in an il -humored tone, to the sene-

schal:
“ What the foul fiend ails all the men to-day, 4
that my orders are not obeyed? The prisoner

"should have had his morning meal, an hour

agone. I don’t want to starve man and beast to-
gether. Give him a chance for his life.” ,

The seneschal began to rub his hands in a pro-
pitiatory manner.

. “ So please your worship I thought it ill-fit-
ting any one in the castle s ould be served be-
fore its master.” , _

The baron looked more sulky than before, as
he poured out a great bumper of wine, and
grumbled:

“ Obey my orders. I’m not a brute, and, he
is a better man than me in the field if he be—
Never mind. Take him his meal, and see it be .
well served; for‘if he kill any of ye I care not. .
He is too good a knight to be treated with rude- , ,
ness by churls. Go quickly." ‘ ‘ r ’

He emptied his cup at a gulp, and the
draught seemed to quiet his nerves; for he .
turned apologetically to Blondel. , i

“I crave your pardon, noble guests but my
moods are on me to-day, and hardly know
what"[ say or do. Let us break our fast at
once. i

The servants of the castle had evidently
caught wind of the baron’s ill—humor, for they
came slipping into the hall one by one, almost
as soon as as he appeared, and began to Wait
on the upper table in the most assiduous manc
ner. ' ‘

The three rdventurers took their one from,
their host, and said little till all had eaten and
drunken, the baron being the. heaviest porter
met in the latter line.

As the meal advanced, the sullen frown on
his brow relaxed, and the color faded from his
face, saving the nose, where it glowed as
brightly as ever. But the baron began to smile i
at intervals, and entered into conversation with
Blondel, discovering the knowledge of a. man
who had seen much of courts and camps in ,his

day. . ‘

Watkin and Gilbert, as became their posi-
tion, remained silent duriu this conversation,
till the baron, in one of t ose queer changes
(which marked his mood at times, asked Blon-

e :

“How say you, Master Leon of Troveuce,
are these escaped prisoners of gentle degree or
not? If they are, it would pleasure me much _ J
to run a tilt with this “youth here. How sey'
ye. young siiir], can ye t' t?” _ A ‘*

Gillett flus ed deeply, forlhe hadbeen brought
up in the customs of c ivalry, as he stain :‘:

“I am not worth

to cross spears wi a .;
knight, my lord, for am buts page yet, and
not even a squire ”

The baron looked at in tall figure and broad 
shoulders, with  , ' ~ , ‘
“Only a page}’ 9 echoed. "Why thou art

 

 

 

 

 

 

~ training.

"as they were in the passage. “
, "the Nerth Tower, an

" “hiS'courage to the

l

l

 

old enough to wear gold spurs.
knight?”. . '

Again Gilbert flushed; but the tear came into
his 9 es as he answered; '

, “ e was my father; he is a saint. The Sam-
cens slow him at Ascalon.” , .

The baron loode at him more kindly.

“ He must have been a good kni ht, for they
fou ht hard at Ascalon, though was not in
the attic. Of what nation was he?” ‘

“ French, my lord,” interposed Watkin with
unusual impudence; for he knew Gilbert would
tell the truth at any hazard, under his knightly

“He was the Sieur do Valmy, of
the Province of Picardy, and I was his lord~
ship’s squire.
caved, together."

The Baron of Trinkwohl looked hard at the
jester as he said: *

‘ “ A squire, eh! Well, if I can do no better, a
turn with a squire will do for mo to-day. Canst
tilt? ' I will waive my rank for this once."

Watkin laughed as he replied:

“Far be it from me, my lord, to take advan-
tage of our kindness. In our province we
ride but ittie, and play baton (staff) much. I
will try your lordship a good game ot’ the baton,
if you will, but no tilt for me till I have a horso
fit to meet your charger.” ,

The baron gave, a dissatisfied growl, and ob-
served to Blondci: .

“It is my luck. None of my guests will tilt
with me, and. I am driven to my wits’ ends for
amusement. ' I want my blood stirred, for I am
rotting away in this dull seclusion. And so I

’ must even kill that prisoner to day. Hark how
Leopold is roaring. Have you seen my‘ lion to-
,dafi? Come, he is well Worth a visit.”

» e rose from the table as he spoke; and courte-
ously sinned them to follow in], which they
did as if? they had not seen the lion at all, till

, the baron stopped at the grated door and looked

in. 4
‘ Then his face changed to a look of annoyance
as he cried out:

“ Something has nieddled with the beast, for
he sits sulky and keeps rubbing one of his eyes.
If I find‘“out who did it, I'll put him into/tho
court, alone with Leopold.” , '

He turned away angrily. and went back to
the hall, when he said curtly to the astonished
Blonds): , ’

“I have business with my servants. You are
at liberty to wonder where you will through

.the castle, so that you go not under the windows
of the North Tower. Ho, Peter the seneschal,
summon every man in the castle hither.
Leo 1d has been hurt.” ‘

V . T e/ seneschal, looking frightened, hurried

away to call the servants, and Watkin, the
ester, plucked Blondel’s sleeve and drew him
astin from the hall, with a‘ face full of exulta-

t on. -

, “ Good luck, my lord,”,he whis reg, as soon
he ing is in
his window looks out on

some place erasyof access. Let us hurry thither

" at once. Old Tosspot will take an hour to find out

who poked the ion’s eye, and we shall have
that much to ourselves. If he find one or the
men went near the Death Court to-day. it may
note the kings life, and that will not displeaso

' ,tho baron much.”

“What mean’st thou?” asked Blondel, in a

  tone of anxiety, as they hurried along. _

, '- “I mean that, being a gentleman, he hates

murderer’s work, and is drinking to screw up
point of bringing king
and lion together,” answered Watkin, as the

‘ entered the little garden of the castle. “ e

would rather give the beast one of: his own

servants than have‘ him eat King Richard

today.” , ‘

As e spoke he looked up at the tall frowning
walls of the donjon, under which they stood,
and continued.‘

“Here is the North Tower, my lord, and the

‘nextquostion is, how shall we find it his grace
be indeed here?” ‘

’ Blonds], who had been much excited all the

' ' morning, began to tremble here; but be instantly

brought forward the lute which always hung at
; his back, and said in a low tone:

“Retire. If'he'be here he will know my
voice, and the old ong we used to sing

~ to other.” ‘ *

atkin noticed in, the manner of the minstrel
something- so solemn and earnest that he for-
bore to est, and he and Gilbert retired, as they
were bi . to the shelter of the corridor.
' r‘Then Blondel, King of Song, step 01 out into
the garden under the windows 0 the North
mar, struck his lute, and began to sing at

o

Who it my

We were taken together and es- »

k The Boy Crusader. I

, BLONDELIS SONG. .
” Oh, Richard, my king, is thy banner still flying,
Is it sunk in the wave, is it cast on the shore?
Tliy lady is sad, and sits all the day sighing,
or her knight and her hero who cometh no more.
Oh Richard, my king, if thy voice can but hear me,
. And answer in music to say thou art near me,
Sing, sing the old song that was once wont to cheer

me,
And tell me my journey is o’er."

The silence of expectation fell on the watchers
below as the minstrel concluded, but a moment
later Watkin clutched Gilbert by the arm in
his eagerness, and whispered excitedl : .

“ Look! Lookl He has found the ging 1”

Indeed, the face of Blondel, as he stood in the
garden looking up to the bare walls of the
castle, seemed transfigured to that of an angel
with joy, as the listeners heard the faint sounds
of a distant lute, answering the minstrel. Then
came a deep, powerful voice, singing

RIOHARD’S SONG.

“ Chide iéot, my love, that thy champion hath tar~
rie ,
Stainless, my banner still floats as ofLyore,
Into the battle front oft as ’twas carrie ,
Never it stooped‘to a fooman before.
Now it han s idly, no breezes to wave it,
Furl the fo ds, white as her fame who once gave it,
Rest, till again the fierce foeman shall brave it,
Waving in sunlight once more.

II:
Heavy the chain of the prisoner trailing,

Hard is the lot of the captive in war,

Cold blow the winter winds, o’er the seas wailing,

When shall that banner shine once more afar?
Love, from my lonel cell goes my heart flying,
Calling to her who Sits all the day sighing,
Bursting the bars of my risen and crying:

‘Lovc, thou art still my right smr.’ ’
,As the last strains died awn
minstrel burst into a passion o
sobbed out:

“ It is he, it is he! He knows my voicel Oh,
Heaven be praised for this I” ’

Even as he spoke out rushed Watkinin a great
hurry, caught the astonished musician by the
shoulders, and dragged him into the castle,
sa ing gruflly:

‘ No time for crying now. Look!"

He had but just cleared the doorway, when,

“whirr—r—r-r” came a cross-bow bolt from an
outer wall of the castle among them, narrowly
missin the minstrel, and went ricochetting
alon t a corridor. \
“ saw that thief winding up his arblast,
during the last verse,"- observed the jester,
coolly, “and I thought twore a pit torspoil so
pretty 3. song by coming out be ore he was
ready to shoot, but, by St. Dunstan of Edmon-
ton, we are found out, my masters and the
sooner we ride forth the better ’twill he for our
skins, or I mistake the baron.”

They traversed the corridors of the castle
and came to the stable court, when Gilbert
quiet! observed: ‘

“ 3 cannot get away from the castle, Wat-
kin unless we leave Lord Blondel to.his into,
an that would be unworthy a gentleman.
Let us tell the truth and challen e this baron,
who keeps our king a captive. 6 cannot deny
the Earlof Hastings, though he might decline
to fight Gilbert the Page.” I -

Watkin looked at him with secret admiration,
not unmixed with some vexation and muttered:

“Like his father, to the back— one. What a
fool’s errand brought us here! But if the mas-
ter goes, the fool must follow", .

‘ And he obediently.waiked after the other
two, as they took their way once more to the
great hall.

the agitated
weeping and

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE noxn’s CHAMPION.
THE Baron of Trinkwohl was on his chair of
justice, with his servants before him, and he

vunced to the pie arm. I _

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I bid ye roam the
castle at will while I 'was busy. Are ye tired
already?”

It was Watkin the fool who took the words
out of his master’s mouth, saying boldly to the
baron: .

“We are, for we have just been under the
North Tower, where one of your men shot at
us.’

The baron laughed arimly. . ‘ »

“He did right. Said I not, keep away from
the North Tower? 80 ye are curious to know
our :egrets? Ye may find it bad to know too
muc . '

Gilbert who sawthat the jester was cudgeling
. his brains for a new story, suddenly burst out:

 

King Richard.

looked angrily u ' as the three strangers ad—,

Watkin was about to answer again when

 

“Enou’ h of lies. My lord baroiyl am the
Earl of astings,.‘and this is my dead father’s
'aster, VVaikin. This gentleman is. Blonds],

ing‘of Song, and friend of your prisoner, ,

_ i am thy peer in blood, andI
challenge thee to dub me a knight, that 1 may
fight thee for the liberty of my liege lord." ,
This fantastic proposition was so much in
accordance with the spirit of chivalry, that the
baron did not even smile. Indeed, a look of
regret was on his gloomy brow as he answered:
“You are in your right. I would do the
same for Leopold of Austria. But it cannot be.
The duke has sworn me to give King Richard
to the lion, and I must do it. If he escape the
beast, I may not stop your going hence, for the
duke gave me no ordeis as to that. I am glad
you have 101d the truth, as a gciitltmou should,
Dung sir. It was perhaps, then, you that hurt
engild today.”
“ o, it was I,” cried VValkin, eagerly.
“ Don’t believe my master, baron, for the Sara-
cens have turned his head, 1 oked out Loo-
pold’s eye, and I am ready to fig 1. thebeast at
once. But don’t let the boy (ome nigh him,
baron. Remember, he is but a child. Let one
fight the beast for the king. Don’t hurt my
poor little master.” '
The baron stared hard at the jester, who Was
already half—weeping with the earnestness cf
his pleading. There was something pathetic in
this long, thin scarecrow of a man flying to

persuade the feudal potentate that the youth

beside him was but a child. Yet it seemi-d so
to Wutkin, who had once nursed hini on'his
knee. ‘

“ Thou art a good fool,” said the l uron, in a
kindly tone, ‘2 but neither of ye u ill have a
chance to kill yourselves, for it is settled that
none but Richard fights with Leopold. Your
king put a foul insult on our duke before a

Whole army; and the duke has raised him up up

champion in another Leopold, who is able to
fight the Lion Heart for his master, for, he is a
lion indeed.” ' ‘

Blondel shuddered but Watkin grinned, for

the jester’s sense of, humor was touched at
once. ‘

“’Twas a notable idea,” he muttered, “to
make Leo old avenge Leopold, and a lion fight
the Lion cart." . '

,The baron here made a. sign to his so: vents to
retire, and said to Peter the seneschal: *

“Bring forth the king. No more need of se-
crecy .now. These areagallant gentlemen and
my friends. By the he of Charles the Great
I am lad it is to be over so soon. Tell them to
push . eopold’s cage into the court and tempt
him in with some meat, and then put out the
balcony from the secret window. Get it over
quickly. ”

.He eaned back and closed his eyes with a
slight shudder as Peter went aWay, and Blondel
ventured to approach him in expostulation. '

The baron listened quietly to all he had to
say, and then answered, slowly: ‘ ,

“If thou wert ten times the King of France,
and the Emperor Henry to boot, I could not
bulk to liege lord’s vengeance. Before all the
world
Leopold shall strike Richard till he cry mercy.
I have sworn‘to “the duke, and it shall be so.
Why, man, think’st than this a new thing? I
tell thee, the duke bought the cub at Tripoli on
purpose for it, and has kept him, till now he is

tree ears old, to kill Richard.” '* ,

Ast ey were 5 aking they heard the sound
of footsteps, and eter came back with a num-
ber of armed guards, in the midst of whom
stalked the giant form of the royal prisoner,

Blondel uttered a or of joy, and ran forward
to fall at his feet. he guards would have
barred the way; but the baron called out:

“Give them free passe el” ,

The captive monarch ooked haggard from
confinement, and his hair and board had been

allowed to grow long; but his eye was as proud,

his hearing as regal as over.

His face softened as he looked down at Blona

del, and he said gratefully: 
“And hast thou found me at last, my bro»
ther? Nay, nay, Richard is not worth these

ichard struck Leopold; before us four .

tears from the King of Song. Have they sent ,

for me to give me freedom at last, my Blon-
del?”

“Not so,” inter osed the doe voice of. the '

Baron of Trinkwo l. “The Du e of Austria,
by me his vassal, impeaches Richard of Eng
land as false to his oath, and challenges him to
the combat with his champion.”

Richard’s face lighted up joyfully: ‘ '

“Has he found a man at last? Quick; good
baron, lend me an armor and show me this
knight, that I may fight for my liberty. Thou

.

 

 

 

new or «

 

 

 

 

whim no malice.

I _

The IBL‘Oy Crusader:

9

 

hast been a kind jailer; but the free air is bet-
ter than all.” _
The baron smiled in grim' fashiod, and Blon-
del shuddered as he said:
“The champion wears no armor. and will
only fight as nature made him. His name is

' Leopold of Austria."

The king laughed aloud.

“What, has he plucked up courage and wants
to wrestle with me? Well, be it so. Though it
ls beneath a king to wrestle with a duke, I bear
' Be it so." I

“This Leopold is no duke: he IS a king,” an-
swered Trinkwohl, in the same grim fashion
“He has heard that men call you the ‘Lion
Heart,’ and he claims that for his own title.”

The kings face flushed angrily for he was in-
tensely proud of his title.

“ Now by the Cross of Calvary I” he exclaimed.
“Be he who he will, I will show this boaster,
whether or not I be Richard the Lion Heart.
Bring forth this king, and let me see him.”

“Follow me, and thou shalt see him,” was
the cynical reply, as the boron rose and swept
away, followed by all his guards, Richard in
the midst, Blondel, Gilbertand VVatkin keeping
close to him. .

The baron threaded the passages in silence
till he came to the door of the Death Court, now
wide open, when they could see, at the other
end of the court, an iron cage on wheels, in
which Leopold was ramping to and fro, roaring

I furiously.

The sight of human beings seemed to excite
the creature to frenzy, for it shook the cage in
its efforts to escape, and the baron dryly ob-
served:

“Yonder is Leo old, King of Beasts, the
duke’s champion. ilt thou dare dispute his
title of lion—heart?" ’

Richard smiled good-humoredly, but he eyed
the boost with much attention. '

Leopold was, in fact, a noble specimen of the
young African lion, after it has attained full
growth; and one might notice that his face bore

‘ somewhat of resemblance to that of the king

himself, now that Richard’s hair and heard had
become luxuriant and manelike.

“I ive him his title freely,” said the kin .
“He 9. true lion«heurt, and better than
But what jest is this of a champion.”

“ It is no jest,” said the baron gravely. “ This
is the Duke’s .Champion, who will, fight with
thee until thou art ready to crave pardon on
thy noes of the duke before his whole court,
for the blow thou gavest him at Ascalon.”

King Richard turned pale, and his eyes glowed
like live furnaces as he said: .

i “ Would he not rather I should la my neck
1n the dust for him to put his bee on it and
Spurn me? Now by the Cross of Calvary, lord
baron, no true knight would take such a false
subterfuge. A champion! Let him free the
beast amo us all, and see if he will fight for

Leopold or ll his belly‘with Leopold’s lfriends

rather than his foes. Let him out, I say.
fear not man nor beast with ,my good sword
by my side.”

The baron shook his head. '

“ It may not be. Alone must he come out,
and no sword must be in thine hand, unless
thou wilt crave pardon on thy knees of—”

“SILENCE!!!” shouted the enraged king, in
such furious tones that even the baron started.
“Say but those words, and I strangle thee be-
fore thy guards. Out on'thee, for» a brave
knight, as thou wast of old times, to serve a cur
like this Duke of Austria! Stand back all! I
Will Show on whether Richard ofEngland be
afraid to ace the lion, naked—handed, or not.”

AS lle spoke, the grand figure of the king
towering over the crowd by a head and
shoulders, stalked forward into the‘ ‘oourt,
stralght toward the lion’s cage, as if to’ ' ' it.

“Back, bacli, shut the etc!” o , nk-
wohl excitedly. “The mac? fool will" it out
too soon.” . " " r,

There was a frantlc rush of the people to
close the gate, which 0 ned inward on the
court, and had been 18ft so when the cage had
been thrust in Wlth the small piece of meat,
which had enticed Leopold into it, only to whet
hi: appetite. ,_ ‘

But quicker than the crowd _sprung forward
the Fool of Hastings, w1thlhls keen Saracen
cimeter in his hand, and swlfter y 3'. went Gil-
bert and the devoted minstrel. so ,9 at all were
in the court pell-mell when ‘Vatlfln ‘cried out,
setting his‘bnck to the gate: _ '

“Any fool that tries to shut thlsgate will
meet the reward of his folly. So.”

As he spoke the last words he made a cut at
a man’s hand, and the next minute clang went

I the door of the lion’s cage, as the fearless King

 

ott England "flung it down and leaped behind
, _

With all his apparent reckless valor, Richard
was cool and wary. It was with the hope of
setting the lion on the Austrians before-they
could close the gate that he had flung open the
ca e, and he was right in his calculation.

omething in his aspect and the angry chid-
ings which the king shouted at the beast as he
flung open the door made it turn from him as
from before a tamer; and the doorway, full of
Austrians, seemed to he more attractive game,
for strai ht toward the struggling group
plunged eopold.

Watkin saw the beast coming and leaped
back. Gilbert flung the minstrel behind him as
he did the same; and right on to the‘baron him—
self and his franticallystruggling soldiers
sprung the lion, mad with hunger.

Down went the men in a heap, the lion biting
and clawing like the gigantic cat he was; and
then all of a sudden the king sprung forward,
seized a battle-ax, dropped in the confusion,
and dealt Leopold a blow on the head.

In an instant the beast turned and crouched
to spring at Kiner Richard with a savage snarl,
as the warrior leaped hack and swung his ax
aloft to strike. ,

Lion and Lion Heart were fhce to face at last.

As man and beast stood there, in the Death
Court, the presented a fine picture of Force,
pcrsonifie in opposite types, both grand and
terrible.

The king, towering above the stature of men,
his muscular body and limbs clad only ill silk
doublet and hose, looked a very demi—god as he
poised his battle-ax to smite. '

The lion, with‘the weapons of nature, more
terrible than the" ax, lashed its tail from side to
side as it prepared to spring.

CHAPTER X.
LION AND LION HEART.

AND then, of a sudden, oung Gilbert do
unx, who was behind the_ ion, ran forward,
swift and stealthy as a. leopard, and dealt the
beast a slashing cut across the Ioins with his
razor-like cimeter, which had an immediate
effect, only to be grodueed by such an edge.

The lion uttere a terrible roar, tried to rear
itself up but could only drag its paralyzed

uarters behind it. The keen blade had divided
t 9 great muscle of the‘back, on which all the
others de ended. The lion could not spring;

“He, t. George i” cried the king joyfully.
“A good blow and just in time. Have at thee,
Leo old.”

, ith one stride he was close to the lion, the
wounded beast roarin with pain, the blood

 

still dripping from its injured eye and the side

of its head where the king’s first blow had
glanced of! the thick skull.

Leopold rose 11 and struck out with one
great paw, but t e ax descended. And this
time there was no twin to the blow. Full in
the forehead fell the weapon, with all the force
and skill that could be dealtto it by the first

'warrior in Europe, and the animal dropped in-

stantly and lay dead, motionless as a stone,
while the kin called out scornfully to the
amazed and fr ghtened Austrians: ‘

“What ho, my masters! Pick up
champion, unless a hathslain ye all.
is our bold baron?” ‘

Then up rose the baron, blood streaming
from a great rent in his shoulder, where Leo-
pold’s talons had cut like a knife, and weakly

altered out: '

“Thank God it is over! I‘have kept my oath
to the duke. Your grace lS saved, and I am
glad of it”. .

Richard flung down the bloody ax on the
lion’s carcass and laughed.

“Thou hast a strange way of showing thy
love, Trinkwohl,” he said. “But for a Pagan
Turk, I had been'hard bestead by yonder brute.
Fie on thee to turn a. king into a butcher, as
thou hast done today.” I

Trinkwohl looked mortified.

our
here

“ Your grace has a right to flout me; but my ,

first duty is to my liege.” ,

“It is‘ erformed, as thou hast owned tome,”
retorted ichard. “ Now, therefore, let me go
forth freely.”

The baron shook his head.

“It may not be, yet. The danger of death
to your grace is‘over: but I may not let you
go. Howheit, I need no longer forbid you ac-
cess to your friends."

“They have taken it without thy leave,
Trinkwohl. r But how came they here, and who
is this brave young infidel, who has struck such
a good blow for the great enemy of Saladin ?”

lie turned to. seek Gilbert who had quietly

 

wiped and sheathed his sword and retired I

modestly among the retainers of’the baron. , '

“Who is this young Saracen, Blondel:”tl:e
king pursued. “ Where hath be gone to? Tom
St. George, had he not struck just when he did,
the beast might have given me one of those , t
claws of his in a manner that would be e at
least laid me up for a few months.” '

Blondel was gazing at his beloved king with
swimming eyes. He seemed never to be tired
of looking, as if to assure himself that it was no
dream. . 'V

“ Oh, sire,” he said, “like myself, he is but a
lover of your_ grace. He is no Saracen; but a
Kufigphristlan escaped from the power of the

r .’ ‘

“A Christian! So much the better. Heaven
grant he be English.” ‘

“He is English, sire.”

“ His name?” asked the king. w

“Nay, that he. must tell himself, sire.” .

Blondel beckoned the boy out of the group
and Gilbert came forward, very red in the face,
trembling all over, his eyes cost down before
the king. ,

The same boy who had struck the lion so
boldly was quivering before the Lion Heart, his
master. ’

The king eyed him keenly, and his gaze took
in the tall and ungainly figure of Watkin W'il-
kin, who came behind his young master, as if
loth to see him more than a few feet away.

“What is thy name, bold youth?” asked the
king, kindly. “ Meser-meth I have seen thy face
somewhere before.”

Then Gilbert looked up for the first time into
the king’s face, and Richard started visibly,
asking again: ‘ ‘

“Who art thou? Tell me quickly."

“ I am Gilbert de Vaux, sire,” murmured the
boy in a low tone. -

"Gilbert de Vaux!” cried the king. “Now
by St. George, I knew I could not be mistaken.
Thou art the son of the Earl of Hastings, who
was killed at Ascalon—is it not so? Is it true!

Was thy brave father really killed, or was he .

only taken captive with thee? I remember I
doubted it. even when that caitifl, thy cousin
Stephen, swore that the heathen had slain yo
botl. v ‘
“Alas. my liege,” replied the boy, his eyes
filling with tears, “ my poor father was indeed
killed, and I myself grievously hurt ,byihe
Saracens. But it is all well, now that I have

seen your grace, and that your grace is safe. ‘

We shall overcome all our foes now.” '

“Fore St. George!” answered the king with ,

a rueful smile at Trinkwohl, “that is not so
certain. ' How now, Trinkwohl? Here is a
youth thinks that Leopold the lion was my
onlycfoe in this land.” . V

“I trust your grace has none other, in this
castle, at least.” ‘

“ Well spoken. But in the land? There is
another Leopold will not let me go so easily as
the lion.” -, 3

“Your grace has only to treat for ransom to
be free,” interposed the baron, uickly. “Now
that the insult to the archduke as been settled
in fair fight, the rest is all easy. ”

King Richard laughed again.

“.A thrifty prince is Austria. If he cannot
kill Richard, he can. at least, make merchandise
of him.» Hark ye." '

He turned to Blondel.

“ Go to the Emperor Henry and tell him all
that his vassal. Leopold, hath done to his old.
ally, Richard. We will see if this scurvy duke—
ling can violate the Laws of the Crusade like
this. I scorn to ask favors of the emperor. By
his decision will 1 abide. Now, Tl-inkwohl, lead
me back to my chamber. It will not be for
long, and when thy wound is healed, I challenge
thee to do battle for thy master, on the issue of
my freedom. What sayest thou?” I

The baron flushed slightly.

.r

~ “ I would it could be done, for Iehould hold .

it an honor to break a lance with your grace.
But my orders are strict. I will conduct.your
grace to your room. Your friends must also
leave the castle to-night, now they have seen
you. i ' ‘ ~
" The sooner the better," said the king.- ’
Then he turned to Gilbert. ,
“ But not before I have laid' on thy shoulder
the accolade, for thou hast won thy spurs in
knightly fashion.” , ' ,
Gilbert flushed deeply. '

“I.would your grace would pardon he,”’he

said, in adow voica.
’ Richard stared and frowned.
“ And why, boy ?”
Gilbert hesitated and stammered:

‘ “Because—because 1 am‘ not wprbhy  of,

4 .

. /

 

 

 
 

prisoner to the enemy.

110

The Boy Crusader. ‘

 

 

the’honors of kni hthood, sire. I did but strike
a foe from behin , and I have never yet served
as a squire. I am but a simple age, without a
master, and your grace, my 'ege lord, is,a
Let me do a. deed
worthy of knighthood, sire, and when your
grace is King of Englandonce more, then—if
your gé'ace but deigns to remember me-” He
sto . ,

d: king listened with a face that showed his
emotion. and when the boy had finished, he
laid his broad band on the bowed head of Gil-
b

er .
“I would to God,” said King Richard, em—

phatically, “ that every knight in my kingdom

were as modest and valiant as thou, child.
Since thou wilt not be a knight, thou shalt be
my page. Go forth and do th duty, that
none can say: ‘ The king’s page di thus and so,
and disgraced his master.”

Gilbert de Vaux knelt down at the king’s
feet, kissed his hand and said:

“ The king’s page will do his best, sire.”

As he rose and retired, the king scanned Wat-
kin keenly.

“Who art thou, friend?” he asked. “ Surely,
I have seen thy face too.”

Watkin, whose unusual silence had been as
all and Wormwood to his garrulous and fun-
ovin nature, burst out:

“ ore heaven, our grace bath a good
memory to o bac before the wars. I am
Watkin Wil 'n, that some call the Fool of
Hastings. But wise men, like your grace, will
call me the King’s Jester, hereafter, for the

age and the jester go together in bower and
hail, as do knight and squire in the fiel .”

The king smiled:

“Master Watkiu, I have heard of thee and

' thy .mervy quips ere this, but how! comes it

' stays'at home in these times.

that thou wast in Palestine? The fool’s place is
at home."

“ Nay," answered Watkin, ’tis the wise man
It is only the
tools like ourselves that go to foreign lands and
have to beg our way home. I, like a fool, fol-

' lowed my master, who, like another tool, fol-

lowed
third——
‘fHold, fool,” cried the king sternly.

7your grace, and your grace like a
H No

\ liberties with me.”

“ Wise man,” continued Watkin coolly, “ fol-

, lowed the banner of the Cross to the wars. and

‘gained glory, in exchan e for all the money
3

21nd” men your grace too with you. That

The king, smiled more good-humoredly.
“Men may say some day, Watkin, that I
was the eatest‘fool of the three, for the

v others, at east, followed. They went not be-

"fore.

 

CHAPTER XI.
‘ THE ROBBERS OF THE BHINE.
LATE that da ', the ininstrel Blondel, his ser-
vant leading t e sumpter-mule, and the two
seemiu Saracens, his guards, set out for the

city of» ranki’ort, and after a long and tedious

journey reached it, to find the Emperor Henry,
to whom the King of Song complained at once
of the way ’in which his master had been in-
veéglled into captivity.
. e emperor heard him patiently and gave
his decision as follows:
“The King of En land was a private, not a

' pdblic prisoner, an had inflicted on the Duke

of Austria a private injury, not a public one.
Therefore, fortune! having put'him in the duke’s
wer, he was bound to make restitution for
in injury,” A
"‘ And in what way?” asked Blondel. “He
hasbeeu defied to battle, and will not acce t.”
“ It is the right of Austria to refuse,” sai the
emperor. “ The prowess of the King of Eng-
land is too well known for any champion to be

‘ found who can meet him on equal terms.

 

V Therefore, if Austria will not fight his enemy,
» who is his prisoner, the king must pay the

duke a ransom. This much I can do:——flx the
ransom, and Austria shall take it, or be held a

' ‘ traitor to his liege.”

“,And what ransom does your highness fix
on?” asked Blondel.
“Thirty thousand marks of silver,” was the

' emperor’s reply, and when Blondel groaned in

horror at the extortion, added:

“And let him think himself lucky it be not
nude fifty thousand.” .

“’Fore Heaven,” muttered Watkiu Wilkin,.
“ when thieves agree on a price, it is a chance
but it proves a od one.” ~ g

Blondel was quite cast down b the mention
of such an enormous sum, for t irty thousand
marks in those days, when gold and silver were

I

l

 

scarce, meant as much as three million dollars
in our da 5. '

But as here was nothing to do but to take or
leave the terms, and as the king had expressed
his willingness to abide by the decision of the
emperor, the minstrel expressed his gratitude to
the latter for his promptness, and they departed
for the river Rhine to take ship for England.

They found no lack of boats waiting to go
down the river; but, when the tried to engage
one, the boatman flatly refuse to put forth till
a sufficient fleet was obtained to protect them-
selves against the Robber Barons of the hine,
who infested the river all the way from Cob-
lentz to Cologne and levied toll. on travelers.

But Blondel, who had hitherto been the most
timid of the party, developed, in this crisis, an
unexpected energy.

“ If you will sell us a boat,” he said, “ we'will
go down alone. 'We are not afraid of the bar-
ons, for we are on a sacred errand. Besides,
we have all worn the Cross, and none but on in—
fidel would harm a soldier of Christ.”

The boatmen laughed at the idea of a robber
knight respecting the Cross, and told them how
the Archbishop of Cologne himself had been
stopped and stripped of every thin , only a
month before, while going to attend t 9 Diet at
Frankfort.

“Howbeit if your Worships like to take the
risk,” one of, them said, “ I will sell you my
boat, and go with you, when I have left the
money with my family. It is not our German
was}; to abandon strangers in distress.”

they struck a. bargain, and sailed down the
river in one of the large boats used on the
Rhine, wherein all their horses could embark
comfortabtliy.

For the rst day they were not molested, but
on the second, about midday, they saw a boat
putting off from the bank, under the shadow of
a tall castle, and the boat was full of grim-look-
in men in armor.

‘Now," said the boatman, “your warships
will have an opportunity of testing the respect
these gentlemen have for the Cross.”

For Blondel had hoisted a white flag, with a
red cross on the mast.

‘Watkin Wilkin and Gilbert, however, were
at different work. They had found at Mayence
where they embarked several English bows
which had been pawned or sold to the Jews by
returnin Crusaders, and, while the boatman
was 9 ea 'ing, Watkin saidtohis young master:

“ are are a hundred arrows, Master Gil—
bert, and those fellows never saw an English
archer yet. If Master Blondel will take the
helm, and let the hoatman and Louis attend to
the sails thou and I can fend off these gentle-
men and keep them from coming aboard."

It was thus arranged, and the bortmnn spread
every additional sail he could find, so that lllcir
boat skimmed down the stream very swiftly,
under a lucky favoring wind.

The boat of the robbers had no sail, but
manned ten oars of a side, and was aiming to
intercept them.

Blondel, his nerves all a tremble, as usual
when physical contest became imminent, yet
held tho tiller steadily and steered boldly down.-
The poor minstrel, unused to war, was yet
strung up to fighting pitch by the ardor of his
desire to, get to En land, and his mind over--
came the tremors of I is body.

Very soon they were within fifty yards of the
robber boat which lay directly in their course,
and from w ich proceeded a menacing shout in
German, ordering them to stop.

“We talk none of your barbarous ton e,“
(uoth Watkin coolly, as he stood on the ow.
‘ A little to the left, Master Blondel, and we’ll
sweep their oars out of them."

There was no time to hesitate. The big sail-
boat swept ou, and Blondel, with a. skill for
which no one had given him credit, steered her
so cleverly that they grazed the oars on one
side of the river pirate’s long craft: knocked
several men back, and scraped by with a bum ,
while the Germans were still swearing at their
audacity. i V

As the saiLboat’s quarter grazed by, one of
the robbers leaped u and cast his curtal-ax
at Blondel’s head, wit such accurate aim that,
had not the minstrel dodged, it would have
killed him. . ~

At the same moment theman that threw it
received an arrow full in his breast from “fat-
kin Wilkin, who coolly observed, as the robber
fell into, the river and sunk:

“By my halidome, we can play you all day,

at such a game.”

Then they were free and sweeping down the
river, while the Germans, full of fury at the de-
fense, pulled the head of their boat round, and

 

came after them with the evident intention of’
boarding them and killing everybody in the
boat, in their usual fashion when resisted.

Watkin Wilkin and Gilbert at once stepped
to the stern and the boy called to the boat-
man:

“Come and take the helm. My Lord Blon—
del‘s life must not be risked in a base fight with
robbers.”

Then the two undaunted En lishmen, man
and boy, commenced to shoot t eir arrows in'
among the crowded men-atarms in the boat,
sending the long English shafts through the
chain armor
Cressy and Agincourt.

The Germans had never seen such archery be;
fore, and could make no return to it. The only
missile weapon in use on the continent was the
arhalist, a clumsy contrivance 'that took a.
minute to wind up, and of these there were
only three in the pursuing boat.

The wary Englishmen watched closely for the
men‘ who had the arbalists, and shot them down
as fast as they rose to wind up their winches,
so that they could not let loose a bolt.

The other men strained at their oars, and
came up beside the big sail-boat, hoping to
goard, but their proximity only increased their

anger.

An English archer had bren known to split a
two-inch board at a hundred yards with an ar
row; and these men were not ten feet off, while
W'atkin and Gilbert could each send six arrows
in a minute with ease. /

Once, the robbers succeeded in bumping their
stern, and two men leaped for the escaping pile
grims. (

One missed his footing and fell into the water,
where his armor sunk him, instantly: the other
gained the deck, only to be shot dead with two
arrows before he could strike a blow, as he had
intended. ,

In five minutes the boat was full of dead and
wounded men, and the survivors could no longer
man the cars to catch up.

Then, as they swept out of reach, VVatkin ob
served: .

“ Master Gllbert, if those boatmen at Mayence
would only learn the use of the Ion -bow, we
should soon hear no more of these rob )ers."

. Blondel, who had shrunk away from the
Sights and sounds of the conflict, now came for--
ward and thanked them warmly for their brave
conduct, saying to Gilbert:

“ If ever We at to England alive, and rescue
our lord the I ing, ,it will be owin to thy
valor, good Sll‘ Page, and that of thy brave
follower.”

Watkin grinned as he unstruug his bow and
observed:

“ Valor is all well enough Master Minstrel,
but’an we had only that to depend on, it were
a bad day for us when we took the Rhine.
The how is the weapon of our fathers, and
worth a hundred lances in a boat, while the
music of the string, though it twang alwa 3
one note, is sweeter to us, just now, than all the
Romaunts and virelays of Christendom.”

CHAPTER XII.
SHERWOOD.

THREE weeks later, in the first flush of early
summer, a roup of armed men in dark green
dress were ying at the foot of trees in the real:
forest of Sherwood, watching the road rom
Lincoln to York, when one of them said briskly,
jumping up: /

“ An there be not booty coming yonder,
Much the Miller never saw it. Bows and bills,
111 bullies l”

are were about a d02en of them, tall athle-.
lic fellowe, picked for size and strength, and
the careless, dare-devil look on their faces, was
thahot men too used to carrying their lives in
their hands to value them'much.

“ Outlaw,” spoke in every lineament, and, like
all outlaws, they were good~looking fellows, as
far as physical and mental prowess was con-
cemed, w ile their dress and weapons were the
very best to be found in England.

The same feeling that makes the Western
desperado of to-day take a pride in his ivory-
handled, gold—mounted revolvers, his handsome
horse, gorgeous saddle-cloth and velvet jacket,
made 1: e outlaws of the Twelfth Century care~
ful to sport the finest bows, the sharpest swords
the handmmest raiment to be had—for the
stealing. ‘

Dress and Weapons, were their only riches: for
they lived by their Weapons and had no houses.
The forest furnished them food, as it had done
their fathers and in the winter they hid in the
marshes, and huddled in bark shelters, waiting
for the spring.

in the style that afterward won ‘

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\

l

rllhe Boy crusader.

11

 

These‘ outlaws seemed to have a regular
uniform of their own; for they were all clad in
the dark forest green, known as “Lincoln.”
They wore it in the finest of cloth, and more
than one in velVet, cut in short jerkins that
showed off their muscular forms to advantage,
while their lOWer limbs were clothed in tight
buckskin leggins and shoes, by no means unlike
those of our own Indians at the present day,
though devoid of fringes.

Each man were a. handsome sword belt
decorated with gold and sustaining a sword, and
each bore a large quiver of arrows, feathered
from peacock’s tails, besides a bow as tall as
himself, which required a weight of a hundred
and fifty ounds to bend it.

Much, t e Miller, appeared to be a sort of
butt among the rest, for none of them stirred
when he called to them to rise, and one young
fellow, who was an exception to the others on
account of wearing, a bright scarlet jerkin,
answered sarcasticall y:

“ Much. thou’rt an ass. Yonder is a minstrel.
I’ve watched him for a good while. We make
no booty of minstrels. They are poor devils
like ourselves.”

Much, the Miller, looked out eagerly between
the trees, and retorted angrily:

” Minstrel or not, he has three servants and a
loaded mule. Thou’rt always too quick, Will

carlet—J’

“Scathelock, an‘t please ye,” was the reply.
“ I’m Scarlet to my friends, and Scathelock to
oafs like thee.” ‘

“Scarlet or Scathelock, I care not. There’s
boot in you saddle-pack, and we’re all fools if
we on’t get it. Come, bullies, who will follow
Much?”

“ Not one of us,” answered Will Scarlet, with
a awn stretching himself. “For my part, I
on y’follow my batters. I go before thee, any
da '. ’

is he spoke, he sat up and looked in the
direction in winch Much was peering, where he
saw a gentleman, riding slowly ahead, on
sober, a lergray horse, with a couple 0
servants f2) owing him, mounted on sender

bay mares, such as he had never seen before, '

and dressed in the garb of, Saracens, while
Ia thtird servant led a 'sumpter—mule behind the
, par .

“ ore heaven, bullies!” cried Scarlet, “the
miller’s luck is better than “it. Yon’s a richer
minstrel than ever I saw, if he does live by the
lute. He must be a great man of some sort.”

Then the outlaws, one by one, rose up and
stretched themselves like cats that have been
basking in the sun and are unwilling to move,
when Will Scarlet suddenly cried:

“ Why stand we here? After them, bullies!”

In a moment, the powerful, active men of
the forest became transformed, just as the sleep-
ing tiger rouses at the scent of blood, and away
:lhiey went, crouching and bounding through

e w
elers, unseen themselves. They sto e'from tree
to tree, noiselessly as shadows, and finally came
to aplacc in the road ahead of the travelers,
where they lay in wait, linin the road, and,
as the unsuspicious minstrel r0 6 up, out sprung
a dozen powerful archers, who had their arrows
on the string, and called out: I

“ Your purses! Quick!” .

The minstrel was unarmed; only his lute
hung at his back; but both the Saracen ser-
vants caught up their javelins and seemedabout
to launch them, when Blondel cried, hastily:

“For the love of Heaven, gentlemen, do not
stop us. We are on an errand of mercy to
Queen Eleandr at York.”

“Then the Ql‘rill.i can waittill on have
dined with us Lo—day,” replied Wil Scarlet.
“.My master gave us strict orders, if we found
a minstrel on the road, to bring him in to din
ner, if we had to shoot him and bring in‘ the
'body. Tell. your Pagans to put down those
javelins, or it will be worse for them.”

VVatkin Wilkm here burst into a. loud laugh,
ejaculating: .

“ By my halidome, 1111’ It ben’t Will of Gram-
well that used to play quartcrstafi‘ at the
country fairs. Marry, my bullies, all the fools
are not dead et, when two honest Christians
are taken for agans by an old friend.”

Will Scarlet put down his bow, and stared.
r “ And who the foul fiend art thou?” he asked.
“ Free of tongue light of head, I’ve heard.”

“Marry, an 01 neighbor of thine, Will, that
has laid thee on thy baCk many a time,” re-
torted Watkin, coolly. “ East t ou forgotten
the Fool of Hastings?” , ,

Will Scarlet did not seem to bevery much
pleased by the recognition, for he said in a
sulky way:

\

s, in a direction tointerce t the trav- ‘

 

“Fool or no fool, give .up your purses, for
you’ve got to go before the captain.”

“And who is thy captain, friend?” asked
Blondel politely. “ Methought that here in
England there were no robbers, and we have
but just come from a land that is full of them.
Who is thy captain?”

“Mar , my master, they call him Robin
Hood. ast heard that name?”

Blondel shook his head.

“Nay, friend, I have but just returned to
England, after three years’ wandering under
the Cross. Lead us to thy master, if it must be
so. If he be a man fit to dwell on English soil,
he will not stay us any further than reason.”

“ Come on, then,” said Will Scarlet, who
seemed to be a sort of captain among the men,
and forthwith he took the mjnstrel’s bridle,
pulled it over the horse’s head and led the
animal away through the woods at a long,
steady trot, to which he and his men seemed
to be erfectly trained, from the way they took
it, an kept it up.

On they went through the forest till they
came to a. swampy region, where the trees
grew sparse and tall, while thickets of elders
obscured the trunks below, and where the hardy
outlav'vs had to take a winding course to avoid
sinking in deep black quagmires.

At last they began to smell smoke, and soon
after came into presence of a. large number of
men, who had formed a rude camp of bark shel-
ters, under which they lolled by the side of huge
fires, shaving down the shafts. of arrows, twin—
ing bows, twisting bow-strings and sharpenng
swords,

Every man seemed to be busy about his wea—
pons except two or three who were in the midst
of the camp tending a huge fire, on which
were roasting the carcasses of two fat bucks,
with at least a score of wild geese and ducks.

It was a thorough forest scene full ,of the
picturesque beauty of a hunter’s life, and Blon-
del uttered a low cry of admiration as he saw
it, murmuring:

“ Oh, the merry greenwood, the home of the
free man and beast.”

“ Ay,” retorted Will Scarlet, a little bitterly.
“The home of the freeman if he be a noble, but
if he be a churl, God help him an he touch a
deer, unless he be a jolly outlaw like we are.
But come on, Master Minstrel. Yonder is Robin
Hood himself.”

A tall, exceedingly handsome young man,
with long bright hair flowing down on his
shoulders in natural curls. A blue eye that
glittered like steel and had a defiant, laughing
look in it that told of a man who knew no fear.
A frame that reminded the minstrel, who‘had
traveled in many lands, of a statue he had once
seen in Rome that they called the god Apollo.
A close fitting suit of dark green velvet and
silk, that showed every swelling muscle of the
boilay, and a set of weapons that blazed with
go

Such was Robin Hood, the famous outlaw
chief, then in the zenith of his fame in England,
while Richard was away and the vain tyrant
John on the regent’s seat.

Robin Hood wo a round his neck a long gold
chain, from whic depended a small bugle ‘of
the same metal, and as he saw the prisoners ap-
proaching he leaped to his feet and raised his
cap respectful] to Blondel.

‘Methinks, aster Minstrel,” he said, “my
men have made some mistake to—day. Robin
Hood wars not on the poor, and who overheard
of a rich minstrell But thou art welcome to our
home in the merry greenwood all the same,
Master Minstrel, and thou shalt dine with us
to-day.”

' “Alasgsir,” returned Blondel, “ I wo' .id fain
be excused and hurry on m journey. I am in
haste to get to York to see ueen Eleanor.”

‘ To see Queen Eleanor?” repeated Robin
Hood, suspiciously, “and wherefore?”

“ To tel her that her son, our liege lord,
Richard, lies in prison tin-Austria, and that we
must raise thirty thousand marks at once to
ransom him from death.”

The outlawed chief shrugged his shoulders:

“Ye may as well save your journey, all of
ye. Queen Eleanor has no power.”

 

CHAPTER XIII. \
ROBIN noon.

” No ower?” echoed the minstrel. “Is she
not the ing’s mother? Is not Prince John on
the throne, and are not Englishmen loyal?"

Robin Hood curled his lip.

“ .all Who could be loyal to such a 'ncel
ShOul I be here, a robber and an out aw, it
Englishmen were loyal? God grant King Rich-

/

‘ /

 

ard gome back soon, for England is in abad'

I Then will I go to John himself, and all the ‘

barons of England; and tell them openly that I
have found the king, and that he must he ran-
somed at any cost. They cannot refuse to help
ransom their liege lord.”

“They will not listen to thee, minstrel. They
need a great name to make them listen to any
thing now.”

Blondel flushed slightly.

“Nay, then, I think they will listen to me.”

“Perhaps. But it depends on who thou art,
good minstrel.” '

“I am Blondel, whom Richard crowned with
laurels, and called the King of Song.”

Instantly the outlaw chief dofl’ed his cap and.

then waved it in the air.

“What, ho, my merry men!” he cried aloud.
“Hats ofi‘, and do reverence to our guest.
The King of Song is here; the Great‘Blondel!”

In a moment all the outlaws had jumped
eagerly up, and came running toward the min-
strel, neelin in a group around him in a way
that indicatecgi their deep respect, and all per-
fectly silent, while Robin Hood cried aloud:

“Now by~St. Hubert the Great, this dnyis
the roudest we have seen in merry Sherwood.
My rd Blondel, you are thrice welcome. But
I unsay all that I said before. Ay, my lord,
though we war not on minstrels, we must war
on thee today; for, by St. George of England,
neither thou nor thy followers can leave this
camp today till we have heard one of those
marvelous strains that have sent the world mad
for love of Blondel.” '

The minstrel smiled. He could not help bein
pleased at the sincere flattery of these wi] -
men.

“Nay, good Robin Hood, I will sing for thy
men with pleasure: but I pray thee detain me
not thereafter, for I must be on my journey.”

“My lord must din with us, and sing with
us,” responded Robin 00d, obstinately; “but
his errand need not suffer for all that. If. my
lord will write a letter, I will have it taken to
Queen Eleanor at York, so that the answer
shall come back in three days.” ‘

Here the boy, Gilbert de Vaux, who had been

perfectly silent during all this time, ventured,

to ak in a modest way.
“ f my lord Blondel will permit,” he said,
gently, “and if it would not be thought an

overbold request, I would say that I can take a. '

letter to York and return ‘by to-morrow night,
if I had but a change of dress.”

Robin Hood stared at him with some scorn:

“Why, thou art but a boy,” he said, “and
my men can outrun any man-at—arms in the
kin dom.” ' ‘

“ ut not my mare,” returned the boy, a little
nettled. “ These horses in‘England are tired in
a day’s walk, which I can gallop in an hour
and never turn a hair of Fatima’s neck.”

‘ As he spoke, he stroked the mane of the mate
that stood by his side; and the outlaw, for the
first time, looked at the animal.

,In those days, when men wore armor, and I

the big 'Flemish charger was the general idea!
of a horse, the slender limbs and lightframesof
the Arabians caused them to be looked at with
Wonder not unmixed with contempt, by Euro-
peans in eneral, English particularly. -

Robin ood examined the‘mare critically and
observed with a shrug:

“A mere lady’s palfrey. What good in such
a beast? For shame. boy. If thou ho st to
be a warrior, it is time that thou hadst earned
to hacks horse fit for battle.” I

The boy looked up at the outlaw with a lurk—
ing smile, as he asked:

‘ Didst thou never see a war-horse-like this?”

“Never. This is a lady’s palfrey.”

“Yet I have seen men, mounted on such
mares as this, swoop down on the mailed horse-

men of the Crusade, and drive them from the V

field. friend.”

“ From the Crusade?” echoed Robin. “ Why,
thou art too young to gave been in the Cru-
sades. Where is thy” fat er?" ~

“ Dead on the field of Ascalon,” replied Gil-

bert proudly, “and to show thee whether I'

have been in the Crusade or not, look here.” '

As he spoke, he pulled up one loose sleeve to
the shoal er and revealed a long red scar; con-
tinuing:

“That saber—cut came from the hand of Finis,
chief of the Shammar: and Fatima was his
mare that I stole from before his tent, in broad
day. If my Lord Blondel Will give me a letter
I will be at York before sunset and mm as.

uickly. But,to go there, I must in" A. 

c nge of .
“ And why?” asked Blondel. - .’ ‘

 

  

 

z‘a‘,

r

/

I other hand but mine.”

, RobinHocd.

 

is“ "i

 

; ' ,

1 .; . “The Boy Crusader.

l.' "

 

 

 

“Because these Saracen garbs that we two
wear, attract attention here in England, where
men have seen no war. They stare at us in
every hamlet, and might try to stop us as

‘ Pagans. Give me a Rage’s dress from th
stores therefore, bold chin, and a womans
.  for Watkin, and I will thank thee heart-

Elondel hesitatingly interru ted:
“No, no I cannot trust t businessto any

Then Watkin Wilkin brusquely said:

“And that’s why we are here to-day, my
lord. A page and a fool will go where wise
men and poets cannot follow. While we travel
with thee, we can only go as fast as the slow
sumpter-mule. Leave us alone, and we will
gy. Fore heaven, we are only fools, we two.

ive us fool’s license."

f‘They speak well, Lord Minstrel,” said the
outlaw chief gravely. “ I have heard that
these Eastern steeds can run fast, and it stands
to reason they should, from their slender build.
Let it be as they say. Write a letter to Queen
Eleanor, and tell her that thou hast sent it on
to make better speed. It will return betimes,
and: we will make thy stay in the greenwood a
joyous one. Who knows? Some fat abbots
may come along and help us make u the king’s
ransom. There is money snow in gland, if
we know how to get at it.”

Finally it was settled, and Blondel wrote
a hurried letter, while the outlaws, from their
stores of captured apparel, produced a page’s
dress and the motley of a fool for Gilbert and

. Watkin. .

Robin Hood laughed when he saw the dresses
and told them:

“Those dresses I took from the train of the
Lord Earl of Mortmain, onlya month since.
.His lordship came a~hunting with pages and
squires, miustrels, jugglers and jesters, and fifty
menatarms to boot, and we cut them all up
and captured a thousand marks of gold, which
are not touched yet. By my troth, Lord Blon-
do], if his grace 15 not too proud to accept the

lit 0! Robin Hood, that thousand will swell
is ransom at once.”

“A good be inning? quoth Watkin, whose
eyes sparkled a the eight of his old and honored
apparel. “Stolen money should go to a thief,
and Austria has stolen the King of England
Kilian” he was fast asleep. Every thousand

e no. »

Then, without more ado, he dressed himself
in the familiar motley suit, and patted the neck
of his mare saying:

“ Afool, I want to Damascus. A wise man,
I stole thee, my beauty. A fool again, I am
riding thee to death to serve the hi g; but the

greatest fool of all, is the man wh se eyes we
shall open when Richard has come to his own

n.
f‘ And who is that?” asked Robin Hood.
\ “ A man whose name none but a fool would
_ speak till the king comes bac ," was the wary

re 1 .

.R‘hyen Gilbert, in‘the' pu lo Velvet dress of a

go, his long blonde hair ending beaut to his

gleaming oung face, came forward an bowed
to Lord londe], who gave him the letter to
Queen Eleanor. /

Then the age and the fool mounted, and

v We kin crie out: , -

. “, ring on your swiftest runners and let
them try to catch us. Which way to York, my
bullies?”

‘.‘ Little John shalLshow thee,” answered

“ He can run'like a deer. If e
beat him to the edge of the forest, I’ll say t e
homes are ood ones." ,

'A man 0 extraordinary hight, lean and wiry,
with legs like a pair of compasses, came run—
nin out, crying:

“ his way to York, bullies.
.an horse in England.”

hen away he went through the woods, at
an extraordinary ace, to be sure,and one which
, would have tire out any common horse of
those days; for he kept up a lope of ten miles
an hour, as if he had been a machine, and as
long as they were among the trees the two
friends were content to keep him in sight,
without pressin g him.
, But when the at last got to the York road,
'Watkin and Gil ert put 5 urs to their horses
and galloped past Little ohn at twenty miles
‘an hour; so that, after a few ineffectual efforts,
he fell into the rear, gave up the chase, and re-
: turned home growling: , ‘

“I can outrun any horse in England, but
those are not horses. They’re deer.”

Allie last he saw of them they were still gal-
loping on, as if the horses knew nothing of

I can outrun

' .
v
i \

\

 

fatigue, and they kept it fip, hour after hour,
till the towers of York inster, then just in
the course‘of com letion, rose before them in
the distance, and atkin observed to his boy
mas§n

“ onder is York, Master Gilbert, and I hope
we have not come in vain.” '

“ In vainl Why? Prince John cannot refuse
:19 1131p his brother, if his mother command

1m.

“ Marry, Master Gilbert, we must not forget
that we are on a fool’s errand, after all.”

“ How so, feel?”

“Because we are asking John, who is king in
all but name, to raise money to put his brother
in his own place. If the king dies, John will be
king. If the king comes back, he may have
sons and John will never sit on the throne of
his father. Therefore, I say, we are On a fool’s
errand. John will never try to raise the money
to put Richard back on the throne.”

CHAPTER XIV.
A COLD WELCOME.

AND what the minstrel had said roved to be
true. John did not and would not elp to raise
his brother’s ransom, and Queen Eleanor was
obliged to use her own prayers with the people
to collect the money, which came in driblets,
from peer, priest, peasant and merchant, till
the tale was at last complete.

But even John could not openly oppose the
paying of the ransom, and paid it was by the
indefatigable Blondel, who went from castle to
castle, beggin help for his master, and even
ventured to 1m ortune Prince John himself,
careless of rcbu 5.

But as soon as the tale was complete Watkin
Wilkin and the page Gilbert disappeared from
sight, and the outlaws, who had grown to like
them verfi much, saw them no more. ‘

Robin ood said at parting:

“Remember, Master Page, that if ever thou
art in trouble and it be near Sherwood, I am
thy friend, as I am to any one that loves the
good King Richard.”

“I thank thee, good Robin, and if ever I be
in such trouble be sure I will flee to thee for
he] and shelter,” said Gilbert gratefully.

'I‘iien he and VVatkin rode away and took the
road to the borders of Lincolnshire where lay the
castle of Vaux, from which, four years before,
the stout old Earl of Hastin 8 had ridden forth
to the Crusades, with the 1ttle page, Gilbert,
never to come home again.

The two rode all day, till the shades of sun-
set began to fall over the green landscape,
when Watkin observed:

“ The towers of Vaux lie beyond the bill be—
fore us, Master Gilbert, but, an ye take a fool’s
advice, we ride no further."

“And wh not?” asked the boy, quickly.

There ha been an unusual silence between
them all day, ever since he had announced his

intention of going to the castle, unattended
save by Wilkin.
“ Why not?” be repeated. “ Dost thou think

I am not able to, fight my own battles now?
Thou forgettest I was sixteen last winter,
Watkin."

“Nevertheless,” said Watkin gravely “an
my lord will take a fool’s advice, he w11 stay
away from the castle, till he can enter it‘ in
King Richard‘s train.”

“ But why? tell me why?"

“Because,” said Watkin, with a dry snifi',
“ the law is on the side of thy cousin.”

“ The law?” echoed Gilbert angrily. “Am I
notthe Earl of Hastings? 15 not the castle
mine? Tell me that."

“You are, beyond a doubt, the earl, and the
castle will be yours in five years, my master,
but in the mean time, reflect that thy cousin is
the next heir, and that thou. being what the
lawyers call, an infant—though to my thinking
a pretty lusty infant—art compelled to take
thy nearest of kin for a guardian.”

“ A guardian!” cried Gilbert. “The law can
never make him my guardian, who left my fat
ther and me to perish.”

“ The law is a strange bird in England,” said
Watkin still more dryly. “As I said, if my
lord will take a fool’s advice, he will ride no
further to-dayl” /

“And I on the other hand,” retorted Gilbert
obstinatcly, “am determined to go forward. If
thou fearest my cousin, thou canst go back to
Sherwood.”

He shook his rein and galloped on, while
Watkin gave ’11 sort of green, as he followed.

“Just like the father, all over. , ’Tis a: 'word
and a blow with all the Vauxes.. But if he_will
play the fool, it’s the fool’s lace tofollow him.”

They rode on over the h of which he had

 

spoken, and saw before them one of those \love-
ly views, of which England could boast so,”
many in those days. Green smiling meadows
by the borders of the river Trent, dotted with
herds of lowing kine, winding slowly along to—
ward the little blue curls of smoke that told of
cottages and farm-houses.

Great belts of noble trees diversified the
green; and one might catch glimpses of the
horns of the deer, as they stopped in the glades
a moment to look at the plowmen in the
fields, before they vanished in the cover.

And right in the midst of this scene of peace
and plenty, where the land seemed to be run—
ning over with very fatness, rose the stern gray
towers of the Castle of Vaux, the great square
donjon rising two hundred feet in the air, sur-
rounded by courts, curtains, towers, barbicans
and outworks.

“ ’Fore Heaven I" muttered Watkin, as he
looked down, “ Stephen has not let it run to
ruin. The castle never looked so well.”

But Gilbert de Vaux said nothing.

His eyes were swimming at he looked on the
towers under whose shelter he wasborn, and
he was murmuring something to himself which
the jester could not hear.

At last he uttered a deep sigh, and turned to
Watkin with the low words:

“ Ah, Wotkin, if he were only here to see it
with me.” '

'Watkin knew that the boy was thinking of
his dead father and he answered:

“ Ay, ay, Master Gilbert. but one can see
one’s home every day, while it is not every
man that can say he has looked on the face of
Saladin and bathed in the sea at Joppa. The
noble earl—God rest his soul—lies at rest, with
a name such as he nevor could have gained by
staying at home, like the cattle-drovers, down
there.’ .

It was the first time W'atkin had ever been
known to utter a sentiment that looked like re-
spect for glory, which be generally derided;
but the soft-hearted jester saw that the boy was
deeply aflected, and did not wish to hurt hi;
feelin 5.

While they were looking down at the castle.
they saw a glittering troop of horse come
rapidly out of a wood and g0 trotting toward
the buildin while the sounds of hunting horns
made Wat 'n remark:

“A jolly crew, down there, as even those of
the old Baron of Trinkwohl, Master Gilbert. I
hope that Master Stephen won’t drink as hard,
for by my halidome, an he does, he is much.
worse a man in his cups than Tosspot.”

“ No matter what he be,” returned the page,
“he is my cousin by blood, and I must give
him a chance to act justly. Come on.” '

They galloped down into the valley of the
Trent and overtook the train as it was approach;
ing the castle. '- *

At its head road a tall knight, whom Gilbert
instantl recognized as his cousin Stephen. ‘
But t e Stephen of old had been a poor and
badly dressed squire; this Steghen was clad in
the dark velvet robe of a knig t of high degree,
with an earl’s cap of maintenance on his head,
and wore the gold spurs, sacred to his‘order, on

his heels. ‘

He turned his head to see who was coming, as
he heard the noise of the horses behind him and
Gilbert dashed up beside him, and held out his
hand franklgr, crying:

“ Cousin, tephen, I have come back from Pal-
estine. Art thou glad to see me ?”‘

Stephen de Vanx, in three years of 'opulence,
had grown stout and red-faced, and looked the
picture of sensuality; but the sight of his cousin,
risen from the grave as be supposed, blanched
his checks in an instant, and he trembled all
over as he {altered out:

“Who art thou, in God’s name?”

“Who am 1, Stephen? ‘Why, look at me and
pretend not to know me, if thou canst.”

Stephen stared at him blankly for a. full min-
ute, as they rode along side by side, and, in thht
interval, was laying all sorts of plans to escape
the fall that he saw before him.

He had honestly thought his cousin dead up
to that moment, and had enjoyed his three
years7 earldom huge]

Yet he could not help recognizing Gilbert the
moment the boy held out his hand, and VVatkin
Wilkin had changed still less, being a grown
man.

Stephen (is Vaux thou ht nick in that short
minute, while they rode besi e each other. He
knew that all the male relations of Vanx who
knew Gilbert had been killed at .Ascalon, but
that there were plenty of women in the castle
who would remember him if they had a chance
to see the boy. ' - '

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

/

The Boy Crusader.

13

 

 

“ He must be driven off and killed,” he
thought to himself, and with that he suddenly
turned, and growled savagely out:

“Ido not know thee. Who art thou, that
ventureth to accost me unbidden?”

Gilbert’s eyes flashed fire.‘

“Who am 1? Thou knowest well enough,
Ste hende Vaux. I am the Earl of Hastings,
an thy cousin, Gilbert de Vaux.”

In a moment the other flashed out his sword
and dealt a furious out at the boy’s face, shout-

in : . .
$‘Mala ert page, I’ll teach thee to flout me.”
Had G bert de Vaux never 1iVed among the

Arabs, that cut would have ended his career

and this story.

But, in watching the desert game of jereed,
and occasionally being permitted to share init,
he had acquired a great deal of dexterity in
evading a blow, however quickly dealt.

As Stephen’s sword left the scabhard, the boy
dropped over the side of his horse and Fatima
bounded away out of reach-of a second blow,
while the false earl shouted to his men:

“ Kill the insolent vassall”

In those da 5 no vassal required a second
bidding from is lord to kill anybody or any-
thin .

Thgere were ei ht or ten huntsmen and prick-
ers slouchin a ong behind Stephen, who had
watched wit sullen surprise the coming of the
page, and as soon as they heard their master’s
or er they drew their short hunting-swords
and charged, shouting:

“ A Vauxl A Vaux!"

The boy was up in his deep Arab saddle again,
the moment he had escaped Stephen’s blow, and
Watkin Wilkin cried out:

“ Away, my master. Heels are better than
hands for us today.”

And the rush of the huntsmen compelled the
boy to follow the advice, so that the two ‘es-
caged Crusaders found themselves a moment
111' r fleeing from their own house, and followed
by a rabble of rufflans, who seemed’ to be total
strangers.

But such a race could not last long.

The flower of the mares of Faris, chief of the
Shammar, were not to be overtaken by the
squat, round-barreled beasts ridden by the
. men-atarms of that day, as heavy as a modern
cart-horse.

In a. score of strides the fleet Arabians were
out of striking distance.

Then Watk n turned in his saddle and called
out to his pursuers:

“ What mean e? This is the Earl of Hast-
ings himself. ware when he comes to his
own i” 1

The words were half drowned in the noise of
the gallopln boots, but for all that the pursuers
drew off, a r a few more yards, and Stephen
roared out:

“ Bend your bows and shoot, fools. Shoot at
their horses.”

“ Away!” cried Watkin hastily to Gilbert.
“ The cloth-yard shaft flies swifter than we can
run. Away, before they get their bows ready."

And away they went as fast as the fleet mares
of Faris could carry them, while the huntsmen
were dismounting and sti'in ing their bows.

But that was the way Gil rt came home.

CHAPTER XV.
KEELBAT?

DOWN on the London Docks, in the year 1194,
things were a great deal uieter than they are
now, and the arrival of a orsign ship made an
event for the day.

When the ship came in from the far East with
crowds of picturesque, turbaned Turks on
board, she created a sensation, and such a ship
it was that sailed slowly up the Thames on the
very day Gilbert de Vaux was driven from his
home at the peril of his life, and dropped her
anchor opposite the rude wooden pier which
represented, in those days, what are now the
London Docks.

She was a large vessel and splendidly adorned.
Her lofty bows and taifrail were carved into
graceful arabeSques, gay with color and gild-
ing, while her huge lateen sails were striped
blue and red, in the fashion of the Mediterranean,
and the cabin-house on the stern blazed with
ornamentation. '

The watermen shot out in their wherries to
stare at her. and the porters on the docks gaped
in admiration.

“ Who be she? Is it a Pagan?”

" Yes there’s a truce betwixt them and us
now. aybe she’s come to trade.”

. " Who’s that on the poop?”

“That’s the captain, of course.”

“It‘boan't. It be a woman.”

, i

 

And so they talked, one to another, till a
great barge with a canopy of silk embroidered
with gold, was dropped from the side of the
strange ship, and pulled to shore with steady
strokes. .

Then the stupefied gazers perceived that it
was propelled by eight brawny black slaves,
nearly naked, with great rings of rough gold
round their necks, arms and legs, their loins
covered with little kilts of gold brocade, belted
with gold. .

And each man had, lying on his knees, a
carved eimeter, with magnificent Scabbard.

In the stern sat some one who was a puzzle
to the untraveledlLondoners. The face was the
face of a woman; but the attire was that of a
man, and one who might lead an army to the
field, challenging admiration.

For such a beauty the porters had never seen,
so different from the blue-eyed blondes of their
own land. ‘

Small and perfectly formed, with the slen-
der, azelle-like frame of the true Arabian girl,
her ace was a. perfect oval, with great haunt-

~ing dark eyes, full red lips in the curve of
Cupid, the whole surrounded by the satin sheen
of blue black plaits of hair, that fell to hen
Ennis: after dropping over either shoulder to the
ron .

The face and hair were those of a woman;
but she was dressed as an Arab warrior of the
highest rank, a turban of gold tissue surround-
ing a light steel cap; a mail tunic of steel and
go d rings covering a short dress of silk, while
the shapelybrown limbs were bare to the ankle,
where they were met by sandals whose straps
were made of gold chains.

And this fair warrior wore a sword whose
hilt and scabbard blazed with jewels, and car—
ried at her back a short bow and quiver,.full
of ari‘oiiVs, while she held‘on one arm a round
shield, in the other hand a bundle of short
javelins with sharp points.

The boat came up to the shore, and the gap-
ing porters made way for the Amazon, who
came up the bank and stood for a moment
scanning them, then came forward and said in
a tone of inquiry:

“ Kaelbat 2”

“ Keelbat? What does she mean?” said one
old porter to another.

Then he shook his head to the lady and shout-
ed in the most benevolent way:

“ I —DON’T -- KNOW — WHAT —- YOU—

sMEANIl”

He had an idea, not uncommon to-day, that
if you onl shout loud enough and speak your
words di inctly, no one can fail to understand
En lish. '

ut the lady looked puzzled.

She shook her mty head and said:

\‘ La, la. Kee .”

She did not'shout; but she spoke distinctly,
under a like idea to that of the porter.

Being a Saracen, she innocently thought that
all the world must talk Arabic.

But the honest porter onl shook his head
again, and owl to his ma :.

“What '1; e flend’s she driving at? What’s
la keelbat ?”

The Saracen girl caught up the word, and
nodded smilinglzy: ‘ .

“ Tahib, tahi , Keelbat, Keelbat.”

The porter, in despair, scratched hard at his
head and observed: , '

“ Yes, it’s all very well for you; but how in
the flend’s name is a man to find out the mean-
ing‘ of Kealbat ? Ah, I have it.”

hen he shouted in her ear:

“ Whatwdo—you—wmit W

“,Keelbat, Keelbat,” was all the answer he
gould'get from her, and he turned to his mate in

es air.

‘ What lingo is she talking?” he asked. “ Be
there a man here that were ever in them forrin
parts?” _

But there was not one; for in those days the
voyages of English seamen were limited  the
North Sea and the English C nose], while the
Mediterranean was given over to the Turks and
Algerines, with a few Greeks.

The lady turned to her attendants and said
something to them in Arabic, at which they
rowed hack to the ship. ,

Very soon afterward the side of the vessel
was opened, and a long gang-plank pushed out,
down which a beautiful ha mare walked into

I the boat, with all the docili y of a dog.

The mere was magnificently watered, with
old and 'ewels sparkling-1 on a green velvet
ousing, w lile the broad 5 oval stirrn of the

Saracen saddle were made of chased s' ver.

 

I out to the mate:

The boat was backed in, and the girl called

' l

\

 

. sucha name as Keelbat?”

“ Hamma! Hamamal” . /

Then the beautiful creature leaped mto the
shallow water by the bank, and walked up to
the girl, who sprung on her back and galloped
away toward t e gates of the city of London.

Without another word she went, and the
honest porters stared after her and then back at
the ship, to which the boat, with its negro
rowers, was slowly returning. ,»

Such a sight as a Saracen ship England had
never seen before. ' .

Meantime the girl galloped up to the gates of
the city, and whenever she met a wagon coming
out, she always halted it b a sign, to ask, in
the same tones of inquiry as fore:

“ Keelbat ? Keelbat ”

And all the answer that she received was a
stare and a. flood of strange words she could not
understand, while her own sonorous Arabic
seemed to be equally incomprehensible to the
people to whom she was talking. ,

At the gate of the city she encountered a
man on guard with a halberd, to whom she
said, as before:

22%“: s” rm 2”... - a. .

, 22 a " e re gaping. o, e
don’t live here, my ggefi’ ,

She uttered a ittle ' blocked up to heaven

188 if asking help, and to e on again more slow.

y.

She passed through the city, which was less
than a mile across in thosedays, and came into
the green fields. where she soon spied a. plow-
man at work. Him also she accosted and said:

“Keelbat? Keelbat?” -

“ Anan?” was the answer.

“ Keelbat,” she repeated impatiently.

He shook his head.

“ Doan’t know un,” be granted, and went on
plowing. .

Then she galloped on for several miles, till she '
saw a castle rising lay the borders of a. river on I
the top of a hill, an the Saracen maiden said
to herself: , .

“I will ask of them there. 811me some one
in this great country must know him. But
how strange it is they do not understand me.”

Pretty soon, however, she came on a one-
legged man, sitting in front of a cottage door
and rode up to him. , '

He looked up, started at the sight, and called '
out in English to his wife in the cottage: i'

“ J can. Joan, do‘ee come ’ere. An there hasn’t
a Turk woman ’ere, I’m a loiar. . Comes ’ere, I

say.”

Then the Saracen girl addressed him with the
old formula: *

“Keclbat? Keelde

He stared and answered her, in the current
lingua franca of the Levant: ‘

" I know not what you mean, maiden. What
lan tinge isKeelbat?” '

er ace brightened up at once, as she said,

with all the innocence of a child:

“ Wh it is English, of course; itisall Iknow
$1 the nguage. Have you been in our coun—
rv.

The one-legged man made a. grimaoe: /

“ I should say so. I left in leg behind at
Ascalon. . But what is Keelbat I is not En ~.
lish for an thing. Is it ood to cater drink, ’

She laug merrily. ' ding some one who
could understand her, she broke out: '
. “It is a. name, the name of a. young stranger
that ,dwelt in my father’s tents. Do you know

. 2 ' ,

“ Keelbat,” repeated the returned Crusader
to himself in English. “ What does she mean
by that! {Tis not a name. Who hath been abus-
in the maid’s confidence?” *

hen to her he said:

“ Keelbat is not a name. He must have been
amusing himself with thee, maiden. ere is
he now ” . .

“ Alas, I do not know," she returned. “ He
hath gone to his own land, and I have come in
search of him."

“ But what said he was his name!”
the exCrusader. Keelbat is no nam .

She sighed slightly as she said: ‘ _

“ Itis all I know. His name isK’eelbat, and
his heart is mine. I shall findhim at last and
we shall be happy. Perhaps I do not say the
name right, but it is all that I know. He said
Keelbat.” . _ ‘ k

The one-legged man’s Wife, who had been
standing gaping at the door broke in: 4 ”

Darby?

ersisted

“ What do the shameless husey want.
To be ridin’ about like a man, ’tisn’t fitten‘.”
v He turned to his Wife and growled: " “'

“Get to thy pots and pans.
least a Saracen princess, if not

_ . ‘ Saladin's
dang ter in person. Barkee,

didst ever . heal ‘

This is, at the ' N I' 

 

i 4.
y,
s ,
,,

   
 
   
 
  
  
   
  
  

  

, fl htingfion their side,

' -, and obserVed:

 

3 :14

I

The Boy crusader.

 

 

“ Noa, noa; ’tisna a Chrissen name. It’s some
of the brazen hussy’s lies. Keelbat, Keelbat—
eHh, Darby? mebbe she means Gibbie, Gibbut.

001’

The one—1e ged ex-Crusader struck his staff
on the groun with emphasis. _

“Ah, ay, the woman’s wit’s the quickest after
all. That’s it.” '

Then he turned to the irl and asked:

‘t Dost thou not mean ilbert, Gilbert?”

She smiled and nodded naive] .

“Why, yes, I have said so. eelbat.”

He grinned as he told her:

“ Thou art an innocent to come over the
water after thy Gilbert. here are, at least, a
thousand men in England called Gilbert. How
wilt thou find one?"

“Allah will befriend me. I shall find him
yet,” was the sole reply, as she rode off.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE BLACK KNIGHT.

THE outlaws of Sherwood were in a merry
mood one day, when they heard the horn of
Will Scarlet on the Lincoln road, and all
:1de up from their various plays and pas
times, to rush to the summons.

For the horn was never used, save to call
assistance, and it'was a signal that the men on

v the road were hardly (pushed by some enemy.

AWay went a bun red and twenty brawny
fiiants, leaping from tussock to tussock in the

ogs, gliding rom tree to tree, and getting out
their arrows as the ran, ready for instant use,
while the horn, at or that first sound, had be—
come silent but they could hear faint shouts in
the same d rection. ,

It ,did not take these active, vigorous sons of

' the greenwood long to traverse the woods and

 the Lincoln road, where they saw what

ad happened. A troop of men-at-arms, at least
fifty in number were pressing the dozen out-
laws.of Scarlet hard, and the archers were rum
ning back from tree to tree shooting as they
went, but all the line exposed to be cut off by
men who Were ‘trying .to get behind them on
either flank.

The'yeomen of Sherwood did not seem to be
alone: for there were two horsemen with them,
and a third, a. knight in
p ain b ck armor, who was combating on foot
with a hu 6 battle—ax, with which he drove
away any orseman that dared to come near
him, wh e he slowly fell back, like a lion at

be . . l

The arrival of a hundred and twenty fresh
meus eedily changed the aspect of the fight,
and t 8 first volley of arrows sent so many
horses to earth, and fri htenhd so many more,
that the whole tro fie in confusion ack to
the open country, w ere the outlaws could see a

 much i r body of men-at-arms resting in a
field yg ’

a heir horses, as idle spectators of the
bat e. .

Then a lull came over the conflict while Robin
Hood himself ran down to Will Scarlet, and

cried:

5‘ What’s the matter, man? What happened i”

Will Scarlet wiped the blood from ‘an arrow
which he had just drawn from a dead body, be-
fore he mered: ,

“ Well, ca in, ye see, we met these three

V . , antlemen, t 9 Black Knight, the page and the

001, chased into the forest by yonder troo ,
and the Black Knight’s horse was shot dead in
fro‘n‘t of our ambush b those rascally cross-bow-
men' and" he laid a at him so manful we
couldn’t but takes part in the battle, for ver
shame. And as we found them too many}
thought ’twas well to give them a lesson, so I

“blew the horn for you.’

“ Whose men are they?” asked the chief.

1" They carry a banner with a black fox on a
gold ground,” said Will. - V
-‘ “,A fox sable field or " muttered the out«
lawed chief. “ hat is the Earl of Hastings.
'What does he,herel”

, He went up to where the Black Kni ht was
standing, ruefull surve in the y of a
powerful brown c rger t at ay on the ground,
with arrows and cross-bow bolts, to the number
of give, showin how dead he was, and the dark
cavalier nodd as he came up in a gloomy way

“ ’Twas a rascally deed to kill the poor beast
when m3 found in amortoostron . ,I would
that I h hold of t e caitifl that sho that bolt

at me.”

’ ‘ bin looked at the knight with the admir-
ati one brave man feel; for another. The
' atr" er was a grand-looking figure, taller and
b' ,4 er than any in the outlaw’s band and his
tape had a certain frank, gallant dignity in it,

x

that prepossessed every one in his favor at the
first glance.

“ I am right glad, sir knight ” said the outlaw
chief, “to have been able to help you at your
need. But how comes it that you were so hard
bested '5"

“ 1’ faith I‘hardly know,” answered the ether
carelessly. “ I saw two men in peril from five
hundred, and ’tis my we always to follow my
vows, that I took when put these on 1”

He indicated by a gesture the gilt spurs on
his heels and pursued ruefully:

“But amlikely to walk for my ains for a
few da s, unless I can find me a esh horse
that wi I carry me.”

Robin Hood looked round wistfully.

“And that is just what we have not in the
greenwood, brave sir. But maybe we can find
one out yonder.” '

He nodded his head toward the men-at-arms
in the field, who were mustering, in a perfect
forest of spears, by this time, with several
knights galloping to and fro in front of them,
as i marshaling for a fresh assault.

The Black Knight slapped him on the shoul-
der with a laugh, saying:

“ ’Fore St. George! thou’rt a fellow after my
own heart, whoever thou mayst be; and I pro-
mise thee whatever thou shalt ask in reason.
What’s th name?”

The on law stared. There was a certain
mastery in the knight’s bearing that he resented;
so he retorted:

“ I tell not my name to ever man that asks,
sir knight. Tell me thine firs . That is cour—
tesy, according to your French codes, I be-
lieve.”

The Black Knight laughed. ,,

‘ It thou knowest the code, good fellow, thou
knowest that there are vows of silence that a
knight ma not break. I have no name at
present. en call me the Black Knight, and
that must answer thee in lieu of a better, till
I choose to tell it."

_ “ And I,” retorted Robin Hood, “am called
the King of Sherwood for want of a worse.
That can answer thee.”

The Black Knight looked at him keenly.

“The King of Sherwood, as I have heard, is
one Robin Hood, once Earl of Huntingdon, but
outlawed for crimes. Art thou he?”

Robin Hood looked round him at his band of
stalwart outlaws, and aproud smile curled his
lip as he said:

“And if I be, Robin Hood, who should dist
guts my title of King of Sherwood? Not

ohn of Anjou, for I fear him not any more
than those spearmen yonder."

“Nevertheless,” returned the Black Knight,
gravely, “what John of Anjou cannot do,

ichard of Anjou may, when he be come to his
own again.” 3 -

Robin Hood’s face changed.

“Grid grant he come soon, then. Coqu I
but meet him face to face and tell him the
foul injustice I have suffered, the noble King of
En land would not refuse me rdon, I know.
Bu look to thy safety, sir knig t. Here comes
the Earl of Hastings and allhis crew.”

As he spoke, the trumpets sounded, and ‘the
formidable body of men-at—arms swept for-
ward at a trot to the edge of the woods, as if to
assault. .

The outlaw wound his bugle in the notes of
retreat, and almost instant] not a man of the
forester: could be seen. hey had vanished
behind trees, and the only visible figures were
the two horsemen, who were at the other end
of the line where they had been talking to the
archers; the Black Knight and Robin Hood
himself.

“ Follow me, sir knight,” said the chief.
“Those fellows will never get further than a
i'urlonlzv‘irrtll the woods before every horse will be
shot. 0 are the two on horses out yonder?
Friends of thine?” .

“Friends of mine, indeed, and cod ones,
bold Robin, though they be onlya oy and a
fool. God grant they suffer no harm this day
for m .sake.”

“T ey need not if they will let us do the
fighting for them,” returned Robin. “ If I see
aright, it is a lad called Gilbert, and a runaway
jester from Lord Hastings. -It cannot be the
earl has called out all‘his power to capture his

will settle some questions in this land of om,
or I mistake me much.”
As he spoke came a clatter of armor, and

 

Robin Hood cried out:
1 “Back, back, they are dismounting to storm
the wood on foot." , ' \

jester.”
"Stranger things have ha pened ” said the
Black Knight. gravely. “ owbei , this day‘

 

CHAPTER. XVII.
A MEDIEVAL FIGHT.

THE men-at—arms of the Earl of Hastings
were indeed dismounting at the edge of the
wood and sending back their horses, when they
formed into a dense phalanx and pushed slowly
forward into the midst of the long line of out-
laws, careless of the arrows, sheltering them-
selves under theirshields, and suiferin but little
in their close order together with t eir stout'
armor.

In vain the stalwart men of Sherwood shot at
short range from behind trees at the phalanx.
Hardly a man fell, and the spearmen pushed
into the very midst of them, while forty or
fifty crossvbowmen under the shelter of 'the
mail—clad men, wound up their steel bows and
shot forth heavy bolts that went twice as far as
the arrows. _ '

Thus it resulted that in ten minutes a dozen
outlaws had been shot down to three men-at-
arms, and Robin Hood souhded a dispersal to
get out of the range of the cr'oss-bowmeu.

And all this time Robin Hood and' the Black
Knight had been watching the battle at a little
distance off, while the the two horsemen, who
were none other than Gilbert de Vaux and
Watkin Wilkin had been hovering on the out-
skirts, as if uncertain what to do. '

Suddenly the Black Knight observed:

“Good Robin, I know not which is the greater
fool of us two. Those men, in their armor,
can not run fast. Why do we not make a dash
for their horses, and scatter them? ’Twould be
a famous stratagem.”

The outlaw nodded.

“Yes, for us. But they would take thee.
Thou canst not run any more than they. I
should have done it before, but that I am 10th
to leave thee.”

The Black Knight seemedtobetouched by
this enerosity, and re lied:

“ or be it from me fetterthee. Icsn take
care of myself. See, I have only to walk away,
and be near the horses when thou sounded: the
call. Let us go.77 ,

He walked away as he spoke in the direction
of the led horses, and Robin remained behind.
The spearmen m the wood were clustered
together and halted, as if uncertain what next
to do. The hail of arrows had ceased; but the
outlaws still watched them from a t circle.

Suddenly they saw the page and he fool ride
at a sharp gallop ast them' in eas bowshot
and a harsh voice mm the midst o the band
shouted:

“ Shoot them! A hundred marks to the ar-
balistier who brings down the be .”

Then came a twan ing of steel own, and the
bolts went hurtling t rough the woods after the
adventurous riders, but failed to hit them. The
cross-bow was too uncertain’ in its aim to be of
use in shooting flying.

But what had started them both into
perilous gallop?

The Earl of Hastings found out, a‘few mo-
ments later, when he heard the note of Robin
Hood’s bugle, far in the rear, and saw thelout-
laws running to the edge of the wood as rapidly
as so many deer, all shoutin together. '

“They are tryingto stea the horses,” cried
some one in the crowd, and in a moment the '
whole mess of spearmen was taken with a
panic, and rushed wildly back through the
wood, more hke a mob than a regular body, to
save themselves from the im nding fate.

But faster than they con (1 run, the lightly
clad outlaws sped before them: and, when they
got to the ed e of the wood, the foresters had
shot down t e guards, and were, killin the
horses as fast as they could,‘while the filack
Knight had ta.an the‘big iron gray stallion of
the Earl of Hastings himself, and was riding u
and dewn, foHOWed b the page and the 00f
directing the work of estruction.

But it could not last long, for the Earl of
Hastings had seen too much war, as Stephen de
Va-ux, to give up tamer at a reverse of this
sort. .
Forming his men as they ran into some sort
of order, he dashed forward on foot, and the
outlaws had to give back before him, “for
Lincoln green jerkin never yet kept out steel
point,” as Watkin Wilkin observed, as he looked
on from a safe distance. '

But for all that, the outlaws had them in the
o 11 field, in disorder, for some time, and used
t e advantage deftly, to shoot their shafts-at
short range into the spearmen searching the
weak points in their armor and makingmore
than two score bite the dust, while the Black
Knight raged round like a giant as he was,
smiting with his huge ax. ,

The end of the matter was that out of some

\

[such a

 

 

 

 

 

 

V jegglin along t

x

’ The Boy Crusader.

\

’X 15.

 

,5: l

 

three hundred spearinen thathad entered the
woods, less than two hundred rode away, while
a/hundred more marched off on foot, harassed
by the archers, till they had gotten a mile from
the forest, and every cross-bowman in the band
had been killed or disabled by arrows, on
account of the deficiency of their armor.

But then the tide turned again, for the archers,
as soon as they ventured into the open fields,
were charged fiercely by the remaining horse-
men, and driven back to the shelter of the
hedges, with the loss of nearly a score of men.

When both parties at last drew off, Watkin
Wilkin observed to his young master, with un-
usual gravity:

“To a fool’s mind now, Master Gilbert, this
has been is bad day.”

“And why?” asked the boy.

“To see Englishmen flght En lishmen in this
way is bad, to my thinking. ad they been
Pagans, we could not have done them more
harm, and had we been Saracens they could
not have charged us more bitterly than they
did. ’Twas a bad day for England, when 
Richard went a-hunting for glory, and left
kingdom to such as, this.” ‘

“Hush, hush!” said Gilbert, in a low tone.
“See ye not who is here?”

He lanced with some apprehension at the
Black night, who was riding close tothem at
aslow pace, returnin to the forest, his head
bent as if in thou ht, t e reins hanging loose.

\But the Black night took notice of neither
of them, and Watkin went on:

“I care not who hears me. Master Gilbert.
Being but a fool, I speak as a fool and it seems
to me that none but a feel would be proud of
this da ’s work." : .

The lack Kni ht suddenly turned his head,
and looked fierce y at Watkin, demandin ;

, “What says the fool? Why not? Did not
find a hundred setting on two, and did I not,
as a knight should, fight in themrdefense?
What sayestthcumthatl” i .- fin.

“Marry, sir, being but a fool, I say that a
knight in nothing to a king; and that a. king
should be the father of his people, and not show
a knight’s prowess on one part, for the good of
another.” ‘ ‘

The Black Knight flushed crimson‘and clutch-
ed his big battleaax as if he Were about to strike
down the free—spoken jester; but, after glaring
at ,him a moment, he said, with a curl of the
li :

p" Thou sayest right. Thou hast a true fool’s
head on thy shoulders.” ’

“ Children and fools always  'trut *j re-
torted Watkin; “ and since I was made ng’s
Jester by our good lord, Richard, I dare speak
the truth to an man in all England. ’ x

The Black night’s good-humor Seemed to
return here, for he laughed and said:

“Bait so, Watkin. The King’s-Tester holds
his oiflceon the risk of a good whipping, if his
tongue he too sharp for the king’s conscience.”

Watkin nod his mouth in a» grin of great
deli ht, as e answered hack: .

“ hen, when it comes to ,the king havin a
conscience, it is time for the fool to step to -
ing; for conscience can talk better, all the days
in the week, than the best tool in England.
Hark! is that another. fight! The spearmen
are shouting." '

 

CHAPTER, xviii.
rim Lovnns’ muse.

'THEY heard indeed a great noise in the .dis-
tance, where the discomfited Earl of Hastings
had retired with his men, and the outlaws be-
gan to stop and look back, as if anticipating a
fresh attack. ' .

Suddenly Gilbert the pageuttered aloud cry
himself, wheeled his marerand want of! like a
flash in the direction of the shouting, when
Watkin followed at the,same swift pace, and
the Black Knight called out: ,

“Follow me, men of Sherwood, ,To the
rescue, to the rescue." . n ,

For they could see, down the Lincoln road,

that a number of menaat-arms were coming '

back as hard as they could otear. pursuing a
sin is mounted figure, that fled h0f9re them. _, ,
hen the saw Gilbert and Watkin go shoot—’
ing along 9 road as rapidly as shadows, and
in a few moments more they were hidden in a.
cloud of dust, when the Black Knight set spurs
to his big iron gray, and galloped off to. the
rescue of the b0 , the archer now pretty tired,
‘ road after " apply as fast

as t e eavy horse. WI, .7
But, as the Black Knight  cloud of
dust: out of it shot the Sax-ac 3 who had

.i‘,’
{I ’
I.'

I

 

landed at London Docks a few days before, and
dashed up to, the knight, waving her light saber
and calling out to him as she pointed back:

“ Keelbat, Keelbat I” ,

There was no mistaking her tone of eager
anxiety. She was imploring his help to save
Gilbert, and the Black Knight was not the man
to be deaf to such a cry.

He dashed into the cloud of dust, and found
Gilbert’s mare lying dead in the road the boy
defending himself, with the agility of despera-

.tion, by leaping from side to side as the men-

at—arms struck at him, while w’atkin Wilkin
was sweeping round the melee, cutting at the
horses’ legs with a cimeter, but unable to ex-
tricate his master.

Then into the dust dashed the Black Knight,
and dealt his strokes round him with such force
that the men went down like nine-pins.

A moment later, he saw a big rulfian strike
at the boy from behind, while Gilbert was evad—
inga blow in front, and, with a roar of rage
the Black Knight charged the man sidewise,
and rolled him over, horse and all, with a clo-
ven skull. '

But the vengeance came too late to arrest the

r' sword cut, and the pa e dropped in the dust

and lay motionless, w ile the Black Knight,
raging like a. lion, seconded by the active jester,
drove away the pursuei-s at last, just as the
yeomen came u and began to shoot again.

Then the Blac Knight leaped off his horse,
picked up the boy like a baby, and carried ban
to the roadside, crying; ~
v “Water, water! ring it quickly. Pray
Heaven my pretty page be not killed.’

His tone was that of one used to being
obeyed on the instant, and the foresters ran
and brought water in their caps, with which
they washed away the blood from the back of
his head, and found a slash there that had
stunned him for the time/though it did not
seem to have reduced any serious injury.

And then t ey all started back and stared in
res ectful surprise, as maSaracen girl. blazing
wit ‘ewels in her warlike costume. came
throug the crowd up to the ‘Black Kni ht,
knelt at his feet and kissed his hands, weep g,
while she asked him something in a tongue
which none of them had ever heard before, to
which the knight answered in the same mys-
terious language.

Whereupon the girl uttered a shriek of joy
and snatched the insensible page out of his
arms, when she began to kiss and wee over
him by turns, pouring out a flood of en earin
words iii the same deep, sonorous language, ti
the Black Knight said:

“Retire, my masters. The holy passion of
love was not meant to‘be profaned by the gaze
of the curious. This damsel is a princess, a
relative of the Great Saladin, himsel , and bath
crossed the seas for love of this youth, who was
once a Christian slave in her father’s tents.
God bless them both.”

The-yeomen fell back without a we r and
the Black Knight beckoned to Watkin ilkin,
who had not come near, but stood afar oflz'
watchin .

“Wat in,” said the Black Knight, gravely
“thou art less of a fool than 8. Wise man, and
thou hast kept the king’s secret well. Tell me
if thou knowest this wandering damse .”

“ I do sir.”

“And who is she?”

“She is the Princess Amine, daughter of
Prince Fat-is, chief of the Shammars of the
desert. Her father hath flocks and herds in
the desert, and palaces in Damascus and Bag-
dad. I knew that master Gilbert loved her, and
that she looked kindly on him, but never
dreamed that she would cross the seas to find
him. like this.”

“ She knows me,” pursued the Black Knight,

“ and knelt at my feet to ask if the boy would -

recover. I told her he would, for the wound
is not rtal. See, he is, reviving now."

As he spoke Gilbert 0 ened, his eyes. and the
girl began to speak to im, while he answered
in a vague, dreamy way, as if he hardly under-
stood where he was. ‘

“0h, Keelhat,” she subbed “I have found
thee at last, my”’own love. ydldst than
not ask thy Amine. to flee with thee when thou
fledst to thine own land? See, I have taken all
my father’s wealth in Damascus and loaded it
in a ship at Smyrna to find thee, and no one in
thine own land knows thee.” -

He smiled vaguely as he began to see what
had happened, and asked her: I

“ Didst then come to our land without know-
ing a wombat English?" I

‘,I knew thy name and I spoke it to every
one I met.‘ 'I said eelbat, for ‘I knew that!

‘ s

 

should find thee. But thy land is not as thou
told-st me it was, Keelbat.” ' _

She finished as she said 'it, and looked as if she
felt angry.

“ What happened to thee?” he asked.

“What didmt ha pen?” sheanswered. “The i

very men who shou d have defended me from
harm—your kni hts, of whom you have said
they were so go and pure—‘were the men who
insulted and would have harmed me, while the
common men were kind to me. But those who
had been in our land and knew my language
were the worst to me. That red-faced man,
with the warriors yonder, tried to carryme 04!,
and set his men to chase me when Hamama was
too tired to run fast, and had it not been'for
meeting thee, I dare not think of what would
have happened. But it is all over ‘now, for I
have met thee, my hero, and we are happ .”

Even as she spoke the heard the 1193?
of men-at-arms coming own the road.

CHAPTER XIX.
CONCLUSION.
A mvr column of horse was indeed coming
through the dust, the sun shining on their arms
as they trotted on and the Black Knight called

out: .

“Line the had my hearts of oak! We
will show them 1; ay what English yeomen
cando with right on their side. Line the
bed ,Isay.” _. r‘ ,
His tone was sharp and imperative and the
outlaws stared at him as it touch by what
authority he spoke, while Robin Hood cried but
angrily:

“ ir Knight, thou’rt a good fighter, but these
are my men and take orders from me alone.”

“Then take th orders from me,” cried the
Black Knight 5 ' l more sharply. “ Tell them
to line the hedges at once.” .

“And ‘by What authori dost thou'order
me?” retorted the outlaw ercely. “Am Ito
mix in any man’s quarrels atthy command?”

The‘Blac'k Knight stalked toward him,’7vrith
his visor up and thunderedin the 3.8th
outlaw’s ears:  -.

“ Ay for I am Richard of England, thy lie
lordi w ill thy men to line the hedges ere it
too a . .

Robin Hood stared at the king for one little
moment, then shouted to his men: - , '

trot '

“Line the bed es, but shoot not till ye  _

the order. King ‘chard is home again. ’

In an instant the yeomen dispersed and ran
behind the hedges on either side the road, when
Robin Hood, headless of the advancing column

of horse now plainly discernible, kneltdown be. ‘

fore the king and said humbly:

“ I crave my liege’s pardon for that knowing I

him and throw myself on his mercy. '

The king nodded rather haughtili.ls

“ Let t e King of Sherwood do ‘ dut and
he shall not have cause to complain of 
of England.” , ‘ , I

Then be mounted his horse and held n his
battle—ax before him calling out to a kn‘ t at
the head of the coming column of men-atom:

“ What, ho! Halt, on thy life.” '

The knight at the head of the column holdup
his lance and wheeled his horso when the horse-
men halted, and he came riding ,on alone up to
tlfie king, whom he salutted :ith an appearance
0 great o in on as/ e came: \

“Thanli win; liege, we have found ,thes
at last. Oh what a hunt we hays had all these
three days.” V _ ' I

He was a gray-headed man With a long, white
mustache and the king seemed to know him
well, for he answered: , ., .

“ My lord of Shrewshury is welcome. I am‘

right glad tosee thee for there is yet justice to-

geadoge to—day. How many spears are in thy
in . _,
“Eight hundred, my liege,” was, the proud

answer, “ and every man hath his two archers g

and a cotelier [knife-man] in the train.”
The king nodded and turned to Robin. r
f‘Tell y men to follow us. Ye are, the
King’s Archers to-day, and if ye do well for
Richard of England, this day sees all your
oflenses pardoned.” - . r
Then he said to the Earl of Shrewsbury:, I
“H( 7» far is it to Vaux Castle, where the

Earl r {satin rules?” , V ‘
" A iodsix ours’ march, m ellgge.”
“’5 ii lead on th men. Will not V
to-n t till I have righted_the wrongs of the

pas ..adputthe true and in
shame. Fen-ward.” _
(lith as yam heard him speak and
up with-Amine, when Watkin, the-tool,came
to“: matter, In. ‘ -

theplaceotthe“ ‘.

  page  hishorse    i

sit,

 

A ‘ ‘red rays of the settiu

.16

l

The Boy Crusader.

:2

 

more than meet that the fool should give him
another. I will ‘welk with the archers of Robin
Hood. They tell me there is one Friar Tuck
among them that hath a gift of shar sayings,
and I am minded to have a bout wit him on
the road. Said I not it would be well to enter
Vau'x in King Richard’s train? My lord will
come to his own to-day without fail.”

Then he handed Gilbert the bridle of his mare
and trudged contentedly of! as the column of
soldiers, new numberin nearly two thousand
men, moved oil? on the 'ncoln road.

And two thousand men was a great force in
those days, when armies were made up of
small hands of retainers coming from every
estate in the land.

Stephen De Vaux, Knight, and recognized as
Earl of Hastings, was riding wearily back from
his late battlefield with the archers of Sher-
wood, when he met the Earl of Shrewsbury
coming, huntin for King Richard.

As he noted 1: e size of the column of horse
which outnumbered his own two to one, he felt
some apprehension in case of a collision, but the
old earl greeted him cordial] and asked him
what he ad been doing, to w ‘ch he replied:
“Figlhting the outlaws ,of Sherwood, my
lord. hey stole away my jester and upage
and I was determined to punish them for their
. insolence. The killed some of my men but we
had thehest of t.” ‘

r “God forbid they harm the king,” the old

earl exclaimed fervently, to which the younger

earl replied‘ as if amazod:

' “The king! Why, my lord, he is not yet in
England.” ~

‘ He is, he is,” repeated Shrewsbury im-
patiently. “ He landed a week ago in disguise
and I have traced him wanderin in his mad
knight-errant fashion alone over t e kingdom.

Ye must have passed him on the road. He

were black armor.”

_ “Then is he in the forest,” said Stephen
hastily. “I will go and rouse all the country
side, my lord. It is time this nest of vipers
'ware destroyed. They may hold the king as
hostage. Farewell.”

‘ , Then they parted, Shrewsbury in a fever of

his men to a trot, the false Earl

g as fast in the opposite direoo

~l'anxi ' '
games.

on.
For Staphen‘de Vaux began to think that he

had made a I ve mistake that might cost him

his life. He ad raised all his retainers to hunt

down Gilbert and the jester, had followed them

to Sherwood and had raised his hand against

the King of En land, without killing any 0: the

three people e was interested in putting
' lwhere the would never harm him.

True be ad not known the Black Knight was
the 1!th he well know that plea would not
avail . ~
‘ , He had known his cousin well enough, and be
well remembered, too the diedainful way in

- which the king had dismissed him at Ascalou,
with the words: ,
“ And thou art the Earl of Hastings now.

i l
“ I will shut myself up in the castle,” he said
' to himeglfx “ It will stand all their forces well

enough. u n
3 ,So he rode on at a rapid pace with all his
men, horses dropping out broken down with
fatigue; .but no one caring as long as they
gained the castle. l .
Ever time they looked back from the top of
V a hill t could see a cloud of dust only a mile
or. two ck, which showed that they were
"being she ly pursued, but as the day were on,
they‘dow y left the pursuers behind, till an
’ hour before sunset when they rode into the outer
courts of Vaux Castle, closed the portcullis,
hoisted the draw-bridge, and Stephen de Vaux
had time «sit down and reflect that his race
was run a last.
‘ He had about four hundred men of all sorts
In the castle, but he knew well, and had reason
to dread what was coming.
,, ,ln half an hour more it came. ‘
.‘ The watchers .on the battlements saw the
helmet: audiences of two thousand men come
twinding along the road to the castle, and the
sun shone on the three
pards of the roya standard of England, at
[thehead of the host, as it wound up to the very
gates of the castle.

Then Stephen do .Vaux, looking down from a
loophole in one of the gate tow a saw a herald
ride out, heard him blow trum t, and
heard finally, the following :00 motion

' 'roarer . at the full [pitch of the here (1': voice:
- . “ Ho, within the casual, 0§m in the name
of Richard of Anjou, King of ngland and Ire-

>

 

land, and Lord of the Isles, on penalty of High
Treason.” ' ,

Stephen uttered a groan to himself. He had
not counted on this, that the Kin’gr of England
should so scon take up the causeo the orphaned
Gilbert. I

And he knew that he could not count on his
men to obey him against, that threat of treason
which closed the proclamation.

In fact the echo of the herald’s voice had not
died away, when he heard the creaking of rusty
chains, and saw the draw-brid e descending.

He rushed down the steps in aste, cr ing:

“ Open not, open not. It is a tric ! The
king is not in En land.”

But he was too ate.

Ere he reached the bottom of the steps came
the thunder of hoofs on the bridge and the
king rode into the court with the Earl of
Shrewsbury, Gilbert, Amine. and a crowd of
armed followers, not deigning to notice the ap-
palled owner of the castle, who stood on the
stairway struck dumb with fear till he heard
the king cry:

“ What ho, the seneschal of this castle!
Muster your men in the court at once. Call
every man from the battlements.”

Then, when it was too late, he came forward
into the court bowing and cringing before the
king saying:

“ God save your grace. Welcome to V aux
Castle. Will not your grace alight?”

The king’s only answer was a cold stare as if
he were scanning some loathsome insect. Then
he cried sharply:

“ Hurry, you men of Vauxl Down to the
Castle Court quickly. ”

Then, with a great clatter of arms the breath.
less retainers hurried down not knowin what
was about to hap n and ranged themse ves in
the court before i: 0 king.

Not till _ they Were all there and waiting
silently did Richard speak again.

Then he turned to Stephen.

“ Look on this boy by my side,” he said, indi-
cating Gilbert with a wave of his hand. “ Tell
these men who he is, or I will do it for thee.”

Stephen do Vaux, pale as death, .the sweat
running down his face in streams, 881d, humbly
bowing to the king: ..

“ It is my cousin Gilbert, Earl of Hastings. I
did not know he was alive.” .

Then said the king to the herald: ,

“ Make the proclamation at once.”

And the herald shouted:

” Hear, ye vessels of Vaux. Behold our
earl, Gilbert de Vaux, son of the Lord gi-
nald de Vaux slain under the Cross at As-
calon. Obey him in the name of the king.”

In the nave of Lincoln Cathedral to-day lie
the statues of a kni ht end lady, side by side,
over their tom . e kni ht has his legs
crossed in token that he had been a C er,
and beneath the figures is the inscription:

me new:
GILBERTUS 1m vsux,
corms rusrmon, ‘
s'r AMINA,
mums son,
was IN panama,
nears IN rmn.

BEQUIESCANT IN PACE IN SECULA SECULORUH.
AMEN.

[Here lies Gilbert de Vaux, Earl of Hastings,
and Amine his wife, born_ in Palestine, died in
the faith. 1May they rest in peace forever and
ever. Arnan " ,

And so say we all.

THE END.

 

THE

Sunnyside Library

1 LALLA Roon.’ ByThmnasMoore....  100
2 Des JUAN By Lord Byron . . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . . . .. 20c
3 Pammsa Los'r. By John Milton . . . . ..  .. 10c
4 Tan LADY or was LAKE. Sir Walt rScott. . 10c
33mins. By Owenvlgeredits...”   10c
sonar or ran ATEB- Plarr. m e
Germin oi Friederioh De La Motto Fonque.. 100

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid
on receipt of twelve cents for single numbers double

numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMSNICTOhdz 00., i

Publishers, 98 William street, N. Y.

/

 

BEADLE’S .

BOYS’JIBEARY.

l Adventures ofBun‘alo Bil]. From Boy-
hood to Manhood. Deeds of Darin and Roman-
tic Incidents in the early life of W" iam F. Cody.
By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

2 The ocean Hunters; or, The Chase of
the Leviathan. A Romance of Perilous Adven—
ture. By Captain Mayne Reid.

Wxin Ertra Lari/u Number.

3 Adventures of Wild B! l, the Pistol
Prince. Remarkable career of J. B. Hlkok,
(known to the world as “ Wild 1311],") giving the
true stor of his adventuresand acts. By 001,
Prentiss n ruham.

4 The Pro. rie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle
Borders. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

5 Texas Jack, the Mustang King. Thrill-
in Adventures in the Life of J. B. Omohundro,
“ exas Jack." By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

6 Cruise of the Flyaway; or, Yankee Boys
in Ceylon. By C. Dunning Clark.

7 Roving J as : The History of a Young “ Bor-
der Human." Brief Scenes from the Life of
Joseph E. Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post.

8 The Flynway Afloat' or, Yankee Boys
’Round the World. B C. D’unnin Clark.

9 Bruin Adams, 111 Grizz y Adams"
Boy' Pard. Scenes of Wild Adventure in the
Life of the Bo Ranger of the Rocky Mountains:
B Col. Prent In sham.

10 ' he Snow-Tran l; or. The Boy Hunters of
Fur-Land. A Narrative of S 011; and Life
Around Lake Winnipeg. By T. . Harbsugh.

1 1 01d Grizzly Adams the Bear Tamer;
or, The Monarch of the Mountain. By Dr.
Frank Powell.

12 Woods and Waters: or The Eiiploits of
the Littleton Gun Club. By Craptaln ederick
Whittaker.

13 A Rolling Stone : Incidents in the Career
on Sea and Land as Bo nd Man of Colonel
Prentiss Ingraham. By ro . Wm, B. Eyster.

14 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur
Hunters on the Butt-lo Range. By
011 Coomes. -

15 Kit Carson, Kin of the Guides; or
Mountain Paths and airie Trails. By A. W.
Aiken.

16 Red River Rovers; or .Life and Adven-
tures in the Northwest By C. Bunning Clark.
17 Plaza and Plain}?a or. Wild Adventures of
“Buckskin Sam ” jor Sam 8.39.11.) By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

18 Rifle and Revolver; or, The Littleton
Gun Club on the Buffalo Range. By Captain
Frederick Whittaker.

19 Wide-Aug; ke George, The Boy Pioneer:
or, Life in a Cabin. Incidents and Adven-
’ tures in the Backwoods. By Edward Willett.

20 The Dashing Dragoon; or. The Story of
General George A. Custer, from West Pointto
the Big Horn. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

2-1 Deadwood nick as a Boy; or, Why
Wild Ned Harris, the New—En land arm-lad, be~-
came the Western Prince 0 the Road. By Ed--
ward L. Wheeler. ‘

22 The Boy Exiles of Siberia; or. The
Watch-Dog of Russia. By T. C. Harbaugh. '

23 Paul Do They, The French Beast Charmer;
or New York Boys in the Jungles. A Story of
A venture Peril and Sport in Africa. By 0..
Dunning Clar . ‘

24 The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life
of Colonel Monste , (American Champion-ah
arms.) By Captain rederick Whittaker.

25 Round the Camp Fire; or, Snow-Bound
at “Freeze-out-Camp." A Tale of Roving Joe '
and His Hunter Parde. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

26 Snow-Shoe Tom; or. New York Boys in
the Wilderness. A Narrative of Sport and Peril
in Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh. r

27 Yellow Hair, the Boy Chief of the
PaIvnecs; The Adventurous Career of Eddie
Burgess of Nebraska. By Colonel Prentiss In-
graham. '

28 The Chase ’of the Great White Stag
and camp and Canoe. By, C. Dunning
Clark. ' ,

29 The Fortune-Hunter; or, Roving Joe
as Miner, Cowboy, Trapper and Hunter. By
A. H. Post.

30 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. ATale of the-
Antarctic Sea. By C. Dunning Clark.

31 The Boy Crusader; or, HowaPage and a
Fool Saved 3 King“ By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

32 White ‘Benver the Indian Medicine
Chief or, The omantic and Adventurous
Life of r. D. Frank Powel known on the Bar-
der as “Fancy Frank,” “ n Face,” etc. By
Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. V

A new issue every wreck.

Beadle’s oy’s 'lerary is for sale by all .
Newsdealent,‘ cents per copy, or sent by mail on
receipt of six cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLIBHEXS,
98 William street, New York. ‘

ti»: ‘ '