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felt there was no longer a weight on my arms. A fearful shriek rang

through the air, and, looking out, I saw far below a white figure

stretched senseless in the mud!

"For a minute I stood paralyzed. But the cry had aroused others, and,

turning round, I saw a man at the door with a drawn sword. Wild with

grief and despair, and thinking, not of making my escape, or of

concealing my part in what had happened, but rushing without an instant's

delay to the body of her I loved so well, I drew my sword, and like a

madman rushed upon him who barred the door. The combat was brief but

furious, and nerved by the madness of despair I broke down his guard and

ran him through the body. As he fell back, his face came in the full

light of the moon, which streamed through the open door of the passage,

and to my utter horror and bewilderment I saw that I had slain my father.

"What happened after that night I know not. I believe that I made my

escape from the castle and rushed round to the body of her whose life I

had destroyed, and that there finding her dead, I ran wildly across the

country. When I came to my senses months had passed, and I was the inmate

of an asylum for men bereaved of their senses, kept by noble monks. Here

for two years I remained, the world believing that I was dead. None knew

that the troubadour whose love had cost the lady her life, who had slain

the guest of her father, and had then disappeared, was the unhappy son of

that guest. My friends in Paris when they heard of the tragedy of course

associated it with me, but they all kept silent. The monks, to whom I

confessed the whole story, were shocked indeed, but consoled me in my

grief and despair by the assurance that however greatly I had sinned, the

death of the lady had been accidental, and that if I were a parricide it

was at least unintentionally.

"My repentance was deep and sincere; and after a while, under another

name, I joined the army of the crusaders, to expiate my sin by warring

for the holy sepulchre. I fought as men fight who have no wish to live;

but while all around me fell by sword and disease, death kept aloof from

me. When the crusade had failed I determined to turn for ever from the

world, and to devote my life to prayer and penance; and so casting aside

my armour, I made my way here, and took up my abode in a cave in this

valley, where at that time were many thousands of other hermits--for the

Saracens, while they gained much money from fines and exactions from

pilgrims who came to Jerusalem, and fought stoutly against those who

sought to capture that city, were in the main tolerant, and offered no

hindrance to the community of men whom they looked upon as mad.

"Here, my son, for more than sixty years have I prayed, with much

fasting and penance. I trust now that the end is nearly at hand, and

that my long life of mortification may be deemed to have obliterated the

evil deeds which I did in my youth. Let my fate be a warning to you.

Walk steadily in the right way; indulge not in feasting and evil

companionship; and above all, do not enter upon evil deeds, the end of

which no man can see."

The hermit was silent, and Cuthbert, seeing that his thoughts had again

referred to the past, wandered away, and left him sitting by the river

side. Some hours later he returned, and found the hermit kneeling before

the altar; and the next morning the latter said,--

"I presume, my son, you do not wish to remain here as a hermit, as I have

done? Methinks it were well that we made our arrangements for your return

to the Christian host, who will, I hope, ere long be at the gates of

Jerusalem."

"I should like nothing better," Cuthbert said. "But ignorant as I am of

the nature of the country, it seems to be nigh impossible to penetrate

through the hosts of the Saracens to reach the camp of King Richard."

"The matter is difficult and not without danger," the hermit said. "As to

the nature of the country, I myself know but little, for my dealings with

the natives have been few and simple. There are, however, several

Christian communities dwelling among the heathen. They are poor, and are

forced to live in little-frequented localities. Their Christianity may be

suspected by their neighbours, but as they do no man harm, and carry on

their worship in secret, they are little interfered with. There is one

community among the hills between this and Jerusalem, and I can give you

instructions for reaching this, together with a token which will secure

you hospitality there, and they will no doubt do their best to forward

you to another station. When you approach the flat country where the

armies are maneuvering you must doubtless trust to yourself; but as far

as the slopes extend, methinks that our friends will be able to pass you

without great difficulty."

Cuthbert's heart rose greatly at the prospect of once again entering upon

an active life, and the next evening, with many thanks for his kindness,

he knelt before the aged hermit to receive his blessing.

With the instructions given him he had no difficulty in making his way

through the mountains, until after some five hours' walk he found himself

at a little village situated in a narrow valley.

Going to the door of the principal hut, he knocked, and upon entering

showed the owner--who opened the door--a rosette of peculiar beads, and

repeated the name of Father Anselm. The peasant at once recognized it,

and bade Cuthbert welcome. He knew but a few words of French, although

doubtless his ancestors had been of European extraction. In the morning

he furnished Cuthbert with the sheepskin and short tunic which formed the

dress of a shepherd, and dyeing his limbs and face a deep brown, he

himself started with Cuthbert on his journey to the next Christian

community.

This was a small one, consisting of two huts only, built almost on the

summit of a mountain, the inhabitants living partly on the milk and

cheese of their goats, and partly upon the scanty vegetables which grew

around the huts.

His welcome was as cordial as that of the night before; and the next

morning, his former guide taking leave of him, the peasant in whose house

he had slept, again conducted him forward to another community. This was

the last station, and stood in a narrow gorge on the face of the hills

looking down over the plain, beyond which in the far distance a faint

line of blue sea was visible.

This community was far more prosperous and well-to-do than those at which

the previous nights had been passed. The head of the village appeared to

be a personage of some importance; and although clinging in secret to his

Christian faith, he and his belongings had so far adopted the usages of

the Mussulmen that apparently no thought of their Christianity entered

into the minds of the authorities. He was the owner of two or three

horses, and of some extensive vineyards and olive grounds. He was also

able to speak French with some degree of fluency.

At considerable length he explained to Cuthbert the exact position of the

Christian army, which had moved some distance along the coast since

Cuthbert had left it. It was, he said, exposed to constant attacks by the

Saracens, who harassed it in every way, and permitted it no repose. He

said that the high hopes which had been raised by the defeat of the

Saracens at Azotus, had now fallen, and that it was feared the Christians

would not be able to force their way forward to Jerusalem. The great

portion of their animals had died, and the country was so eaten up by the

Saracen hosts, that an advance upon Jerusalem without a large baggage

train was next to impossible; and indeed if the Christians were to arrive

before that city, they could effect nothing without the aid of the heavy

machines necessary for battering the walls or effecting an escalade.

Cuthbert was vastly grieved when he heard of the probable failure of the

expedition, and he burned with eagerness to take his part again in the

dangers and difficulties which beset the Christian army. His host pointed

out to him the extreme difficulty and danger of his crossing the enemy's

lines, but at the same time offered to do all in his power to assist him.

After two days' stay at the village, and discussing the pros and cons of

all possible plans, it was decided that the best chance lay in a bold

effort. The host placed at his disposal one of his horses, together with

such clothes as would enable him to ride as an Arab chief of rank and

station; a long lance was furnished him, a short and heavy mace, and

scimitar; a bag of dates was hung at the saddle-bow; and with the

sincerest thanks to his protector, and with a promise that should the

Christian host win their way to Jerusalem the steed should be returned

with ample payment, Cuthbert started on his journey.

CHAPTER XVI.

A FIGHT OF HEROES.

The horse was a good and spirited one, and when he had once descended to

the plains, Cuthbert rode gaily along, exulting in his freedom, and in

once again possessing arms to defend himself should it be needed. His

appearance was so exactly that of the horsemen who were continually

passing and repassing that no observation whatever was attracted by it.

Through villages, and even through camps, Cuthbert rode fearlessly, and

arrived, without having once been accosted, near the main camp of the

Saracens, which extended for miles parallel to the sea. But at a distance

of some three leagues beyond, could be seen the white tents of the

Christian host, and Cuthbert felt that the time of trial was now at hand.

He dismounted for an hour to allow his steed to rest itself, fed it with

dates from his wallet, and gave it a drink of water at the stream. Then,

when he felt that it had thoroughly recovered its strength and freshness,

he re-mounted, and rode briskly on as before. He passed unchallenged,

attracting no more notice than a person now-a-days would do in walking

along a crowded street. Without hesitation he passed through the tents

and started across the open country. Bands of horsemen were seen here and

there, some going, and some coming from the direction of the Christian

camp. As it was doubtless supposed that he was on his way to join some

band that had gone on in advance, the passage of the solitary horseman

excited no comment until he approached within about two miles of the

Christian camp. There were now, so far as he could see, no enemies

between him and the point he so longed to gain. But at this minute a

group of Arab horsemen, gathered, apparently on the look-out against any

movement of the Christians, shouted to him "Halt!" demanding whither he

was going.

Up to this point Cuthbert had ridden at a gentle canter; but at the

challenge he put spurs into his steed and made across the plain at full

speed. With a wild yell the Arabs started in pursuit. They lay at first

some 200 yards on his right, and he had therefore a considerable start of

them. His horse was fairly fresh, for the journey that he had made had

only been about fifteen miles--an inconsiderable distance to an Arab

steed. For half a mile he did not think that his pursuers gained much

upon him, riding as they had done sideways. They had now gathered in his

rear, and the nearest was some 150 yards behind him. A quarter of a mile

farther he again looked round, and found that two of the Arabs, far

better mounted than the others, had come within half the distance which

separated them from him when he last glanced back. His horse was

straining to the utmost, and he felt that it could do no more; he

therefore prepared himself for a desperate fight should his pursuers

overtake him. In another quarter of a mile they were but a short distance

behind, and an arrow whizzing by Cuthbert's ear told him they had

be-taken themselves to their bows.

Half a mile ahead he saw riding towards him a group of Christian knights;

but he felt that it was too late for him to hope to reach them, and that

his only chance now was to boldly encounter his pursuers. The main body

of the Arabs was fully 200 yards behind--a short distance when going at a

gallop--which left him but little time to shake off the pursuit of the

two immediately behind him.

A sharp stinging pain in his leg told him that it was time to make his

effort; and checking his horse, he wheeled suddenly round. The two Arabs

with a yell rode at him with pointed lance. With his right hand Cuthbert

grasped the short heavy mace which hung at his saddle-bow, and being well

practised in the hurling of this weapon--which formed part of the

education of a good knight--he cast it with all his force at the chest of

the Arab approaching on that side. The point of the spear was within a

few yards of his breast as he flung the mace; but his aim was true, for

it smote the Saracen full on the chest, and hurled him from his horse as

if struck with a thunderbolt. At the same instant Cuthbert threw himself

flat on the neck of his steed and the lance of the Arab who came up on

the other side passed harmlessly between his shoulders, tearing his

clothes as it went. In an instant Cuthbert had wheeled his horse, and

before the Arab could turn his steed Cuthbert, coming up from behind,

had run him through the body.

Short as the delay had been, the main body of the pursuers were scarcely

fifty yards away; but Cuthbert now continued his flight towards the

knights, who were galloping forward at full speed; and a moment

afterwards glancing back, he saw that his pursuers had turned and were in

full flight.

With a shout of joy he rode forward to the party who had viewed with

astonishment this conflict between what appeared to be three of the

infidels. Even louder than his first shout of exultation was the cry of

joy which he raised at seeing among the party to whom he rode up, the

Earl of Evesham, who reined in his horse in astonishment, and drew his

sword as the supposed enemy galloped towards him.

"My lord, my lord!" Cuthbert said. "Thank heaven I am safe with

you again."

The earl lowered his sword in astonishment.