The Talisman

"To see your Majesty in such cheerful mood," said the Lord of Gilsland, "by my faith, I could remain till Blondel had achieved the great romance of King Arthur, which lasts for three days."

"We will not tax your patience so deeply," said the King. "But see, yonder glare of torches without shows that our consort approaches. Away to receive her, man, and win thyself grace in the brightest eyes of Christendom. Nay, never stop to adjust thy cloak. See, thou hast let Neville come between the wind and the sails of thy galley."

"He was never before me in the field of battle," said De Vaux, not greatly pleased to see himself anticipated by the more active service of the chamberlain.

"No, neither he nor any one went before thee there, my good Tom of the Gills," said the King, "unless it was ourself, now and then."

"Ay, my liege," said De Vaux, "and let us do justice to the unfortunate. The unhappy Knight of the Leopard hath been before me too, at a season; for, look you, he weighs less on horseback, and so—"

"Hush!" said the King, interrupting him in a peremptory tone, "not a word of him," and instantly stepped forward to greet his royal consort; and when he had done so, he presented to her Blondel, as king of minstrelsy and his master in the gay science. Berengaria, who well knew that her royal husband's passion for poetry and music almost equalled his appetite for warlike fame, and that Blondel was his especial favourite, took anxious care to receive him with all the flattering distinctions due to one whom the King delighted to honour. Yet it was evident that, though Blondel made suitable returns to the compliments showered on him something too abundantly by the royal beauty, he owned with deeper reverence and more humble gratitude the simple and graceful welcome of Edith, whose kindly greeting appeared to him, perhaps, sincere in proportion to its brevity and simplicity.

Both the Queen and her royal husband were aware of this distinction, and Richard, seeing his consort somewhat piqued at the preference assigned to his cousin, by which perhaps he himself did not feel much gratified, said in the hearing of both, "We minstrels, Berengaria, as thou mayest see by the bearing of our master Blondel, pay more reverence to a severe judge like our kinswoman than to a kindly, partial friend like thyself, who is willing to take our worth upon trust."

Edith was moved by this sarcasm of her royal kinsman, and hesitated not to reply that, "To be a harsh and severe judge was not an attribute proper to her alone of all the Plantagenets."

She had perhaps said more, having some touch of the temper of that house, which, deriving their name and cognizance from the lowly broom (PLANTA GENISTA), assumed as an emblem of humility, were perhaps one of the proudest families that ever ruled in England; but her eye, when kindling in her reply, suddenly caught those of the Nubian, although he endeavoured to conceal himself behind the nobles who were present, and she sunk upon a seat, turning so pale that Queen Berengaria deemed herself obliged to call for water and essences, and to go through the other ceremonies appropriate to a lady's swoon. Richard, who better estimated Edith's strength of mind, called to Blondel to assume his seat and commence his lay, declaring that minstrelsy was worth every other recipe to recall a Plantagenet to life. "Sing us," he said, "that song of the Bloody Vest, of which thou didst formerly give me the argument ere I left Cyprus. Thou must be perfect in it by this time, or, as our yeomen say, thy bow is broken."

The anxious eye of the minstrel, however, dwelt on Edith, and it was not till he observed her returning colour that he obeyed the repeated commands of the King. Then, accompanying his voice with the harp, so as to grace, but yet not drown, the sense of what he sung, he chanted in a sort of recitative one of those ancient adventures of love and knighthood which were wont of yore to win the public attention. So soon as he began to prelude, the insignificance of his personal appearance seemed to disappear, and his countenance glowed with energy and inspiration. His full, manly, mellow voice, so absolutely under command of the purest taste, thrilled on every ear and to every heart. Richard, rejoiced as after victory, called out the appropriate summons for silence, "Listen, lords, in bower and hall"; while, with the zeal of a patron at once and a pupil, he arranged the circle around, and hushed them into silence; and he himself sat down with an air of expectation and interest, not altogether unmixed with the gravity of the professed critic. The courtiers turned their eyes on the King, that they might be ready to trace and imitate the emotions his features should express, and Thomas de Vaux yawned tremendously, as one who submitted unwillingly to a wearisome penance. The song of Blondel was of course in the Norman language, but the verses which follow express its meaning and its manner.

THE BLOODY VEST.

'Twas near the fair city of Benevent, 
When the sun was setting on bough and bent, 
And knights were preparing in bower and tent, 
On the eve of the Baptist's tournament; 
When in Lincoln green a stripling gent, 
Well seeming a page by a princess sent, 
Wander'd the camp, and, still as he went, 
Inquired for the Englishman, Thomas a Kent. 

Far hath he far'd, and farther must fare, 
Till he finds his pavilion nor stately nor rare,— 
Little save iron and steel was there; 
And, as lacking the coin to pay armourer's care, 
With his sinewy arms to the shoulders bare, 
The good knight with hammer and file did repair 
The mail that to-morrow must see him wear, 
For the honour of Saint John and his lady fair. 

"Thus speaks my lady," the page said he, 
And the knight bent lowly both head and knee, 
"She is Benevent's Princess so high in degree, 
And thou art as lowly as knight may well be— 
He that would climb so lofty a tree, 
Or spring such a gulf as divides her from thee, 
Must dare some high deed, by which all men may see 
His ambition is back'd by his hie chivalrie. 

"Therefore thus speaks my lady," the fair page he said, 
And the knight lowly louted with hand and with head, 
"Fling aside the good armour in which thou art clad, 
And don thou this weed of her night-gear instead, 
For a hauberk of steel, a kirtle of thread; 
And charge, thus attir'd, in the tournament dread, 
And fight as thy wont is where most blood is shed, 
And bring honour away, or remain with the dead."

Untroubled in his look, and untroubled in his breast, The knight the weed hath taken, and reverently hath kiss'd. "Now blessed be the moment, the messenger be blest! Much honour'd do I hold me in my lady's high behest; And say unto my lady, in this dear night-weed dress'd, To the best armed champion I will not veil my crest; But if I live and bear me well 'tis her turn to take the test." Here, gentles, ends the foremost fytte of the Lay of the Bloody Vest.