Heroines of the Crusades. Celestia Angenette Bloss

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СКАЧАТЬ knights, on whose noble forms and toil-worn habiliments, the eyes of the multitude were riveted with the most intense curiosity; nor did she notice, while the bishop sprinkled the babe with the holy-water, and consecrated it to God, that their leader had advanced to the altar and knelt beside her at the font: but when the warrior stretched out his arm to receive the white-robed cherub from the hands of the priest, she turned to see her husband gazing with unutterable tenderness upon his infant daughter, whom he now beheld for the first time.

      The unexpected return of their lord gave an additional impulse to the festivities of the day among the numerous retainers of the count.

      When the joyous greetings and congratulations were over, and Adela and Stephen were left to the free interchange of their own thoughts, the countess, who suspected that some misadventure had occasioned this unannounced arrival, led the way to an explanation. “And wherefore comes not Robert with thee?” she inquired.

      “Methinks thou mightest spare thine asking,” said Stephen, looking fondly upon her. “Robert has not those ties that draw me to my native land. Adventure and war are wife and children to him.”

      “Did wife and children draw my husband from the paths of glory and the cause of God?” replied the countess, apprehensively.

      “Those paths which thy imagination invests with glory,” said Stephen, “are but the tracks where reptiles and savage beasts have found their way, among craggy rocks and thorny bushes, bleeding deadly venom. We followed them through deplorable suffering, and were conducted to disaster and defeat. And as for the cause of God, if thou hadst seen the vices of these holy croises, and the hardships they endured, thou wouldst have deemed either that they were not the people of God, or that the Almighty took little note of the sufferings of his faithful servants.”

      “’Tis the faint heart that feels the toils of the way, and distrusts the care of Providence,” said Adela, reproachfully. “Did not the vows of knighthood alone forbid thee to abandon the holy cause?”

      “To abandon a cause forsaken by God and man, were the dictate of prudence,” retorted Stephen, stung by the censure of his beloved countess.

      “Prudence is born of cowardice,” replied she, with unabated warmth. “I have hitherto heard of deeds of valor, not of desertion; of victory, not of defeat.”

      “Thine ignorance then excuses thy violence,” said Stephen; “but if thou wilt listen patiently to thy lord, thou mayest perchance become better informed.”

      “I will listen to nothing that brands my Stephen with cowardice!” exclaimed Adela. “My heart exulted in the thought that the president of the chiefs would counsel them to worthy deeds!” and the haughty woman burst into tears of mingled tenderness and mortified pride.

      “By the crucifix at Lucca!” exclaimed Stephen, rising in wrath, “an thou wilt not listen to reason, ’twere vain to talk.”

      “And if reason determined thy return, wherefore comest thou alone?” said Adela, striving to conquer her emotion.

      “Alone!” replied the count. “Of the multitudes that left Europe at the preaching of Peter, three fourths have returned already or fallen victims to their folly. The Hermit himself has fled from the sight of miseries that he was impotent to relieve and unable to endure. Baldwin has joined a piratical band that ravage the coast of Cilicia. Raimond, of Toulouse, languishes the victim of a pestilential fever. Godfrey, the soul of the expedition, torn and lacerated, in an encounter with wild beasts, lies prostrate with his wounds; nay, the Count Melun, and Tatius the lieutenant of Alexius, have withdrawn their forces; and when sickness compelled me to retire for a season from the siege of Antioch, fifteen thousand Turks, from the heart of Asia, were on their way to join the myriads that surround the christian camp.”

      “And what kind hand tended thy illness?” said the countess, her tenderness returning at the thought of his suffering.

      “The bivouac of the soldier admits few of those attentions so grateful to an invalid,” replied her husband, much softened. “However, my indisposition was of short duration, and I should have rejoined my companions, had not intelligence reached me that caused me to abandon all hope for the success of the enterprise.

      “I tell thee that the project of subduing Asia is utterly foolish and vain. The Greek empire, the barrier of Europe on the east, is little less infidel than the sons of Islam; and every conquest of the Christians is claimed by Alexius as feudal lord. He wrested from us the city of Nice in the very hour of victory. On my return, I met him at the head of his army on the way to take possession of Antioch, and by representing the power of the Turks turned him from his purpose.”

      “But do not the people of God always triumph in the battles with the Infidels?” inquired Adela.

      “In single encounter or in a fair field,” replied Stephen, “the croises are uniformly victorious: but valor wields no weapon against famine and disease. Our army, at such a distance from their own land, must be dependent for supplies upon the grace of Alexius, each victory, therefore, but lays the foundation for another contest, and were Palestine delivered from the Turk, it would require still greater exertion, to wrest it from the Greek.” The countess was silenced by reasoning which she could not answer, but against which all her feelings revolted. Yet though she apparently acquiesced in her husband’s decision, her heart was keenly alive to every rumor that might reflect upon his fame. Nor were her feelings soothed, by hearing that the pilgrims besieged in Antioch, enfeebled by disease and wasted by famine, reproached Count Stephen, as the cause of all their miseries; since he had withdrawn his own forces, not only, but turned back the armies that were hastening to their relief. Her pride and ambition were deeply wounded by these reports, and when she learned that the Christians, at the very point to die of starvation, had bound themselves never to abandon the cause, till they had pressed their lips upon the Holy Sepulchre; that visions of saints and apostles, had reawakened energy and activity in their wasted ranks, that the lance that pierced the side of the Saviour, had been discovered and that a “bright squadron of celestial allies,” had closed in with the battalions of the christian army and pursued the Saracen legions from the vale of the Orontes, she felt that her husband had not only tamely resigned an earthly crown, but had by the same cowardly act forfeited an heavenly inheritance. In the agony of her disappointment and chagrin, she vowed she would give him no rest till he returned to the Holy Land, to wipe out with his blood if need be, the foul stain upon his honor.

      In this state of mind Stephen found it impossible to interest her in any of their accustomed occupations and amusements. News from the Crusade alone restored her wonted animation, and as these tidings, generally, reflected little honor upon himself, he suppressed as much as possible all intelligence from the East, and contrived to pass his time in distant parts of his domains. The torturing suspense of the countess at length induced her secretly to dispatch a messenger to Italy. He returned bearing a transcript of an official letter, which the chiefs of the Crusade had sent to Pope Urban. After giving the details of the march from Antioch along the sea-coast past Tripoli, through the country of Sidon to Ramula, the letter went on. “Thence our troops continued their route to the village formerly called Emmaus, and like the disciples of old ‘our hearts burned within us,’ when there came to us certain brethren from Bethlehem to comfort us, after all our fatigues, and to welcome us to this holy and beautiful land. Sleep was banished from every eye, and ere midnight was well passed, every man animated by the fervor of hope and the intensity of desire, had girded on his armor and come forth from his tent, prepared for the last conflict. We wandered along the highways and fields, in darkness; but at length the heavens blushed with the glorious suddenness of eastern dawn, and as the sun shot his level rays across the sacred brow of Olivet, the holy city lay before our eyes. ‘Jerusalem! Jerusalem!’ was repeated with tumultuous wonder, by a thousand tongues. Every fatigue, every danger, every hardship, was forgotten, and the warrior became at once a simple pilgrim; СКАЧАТЬ