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The day following their cantonment in the ruins of the old castle from
which they had driven the banditti, the company of knights journeyed leisurely
through a pleasant vale, which lay at the foot of the Pyrenees. This
majestic range of mountains which form the natural barrier between France
and Spain rose before them all the day in imposing grandeur, their summits
capped with snow, while clouds were rolling down their dark sides.—
As they pursued their way they gazed upon the sublime scenes with pleasure;
each comparing positions of the landscape to loved and remembered
places in his own native land. The Roman knight thought he could trace
in the loftiest peaks a likeness to mountains in the north of Italy; the Scotch
knight saw in them Ben Nevis and Ben Lomond, while the German knight
compared them with the majestic scenery of the Upper Rhine. Their road
lay all day along the brink of a mountain torrent, which, after leaving the
hills went sparkling through the valley like a silver stream. As night approached,
and the glow of sunset suffused the skies and tinged the snowy
peaks with a roseate blush, they came to a little hamlet in the entrance to
the mountain passes, where three roads diverged; one conducting westward
along the mountain's base; one penetrating the Pyrennees into France;
the other winding along the vale parallel with the mountain's range, towards
the Mediterranean. Here the knights were to sever their long companionship;
the Roman and Venitian knights taking the road to the sea, whence
they were to embark for their own lands; the Spanish knight to turn aside
westward towards his own castle; while the others were to continue their
route into France.

It was, therefore, with less gaiety than on previous evenings, that they
encamped for the night in a woodland on the borders of the hamlet, for the
little inn could not contain a quarter of the company. When at length they
had prepared themselves to listen to the story of the English knight in support
of the chivalry of England, Sir Henry Percie thus began:

`In the days of Richard Plantagenet, called He of the Lion Heart, who
was the best crowned knight of Christendom, there came to his tent a youth
who was no less remarkable for the great beauty of his person than for the
courage of his soul. When he came, his lineage or name, no one knew.—

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He called himself Norman Howard, and wore for his device an Earl's coronet
reversed. He had become known to king Richard in Palestine, in this
way. One night after an unsuccessful attack upon the citadel of the Temple,
during which many brave knights had fallen, Richard was in his tent
reposing after the fatigues of the fight. His face was sorrowful not so much
for his defeat, for that might be remedied the next day; but on account of
the disgrace that had befallen his nearest friend, the Earl — whom he
loved like a brother, and who had hitherto shown himself a brave and good
knight.

In the battle of that day the Earl had become a traitor to his faith and loyality,
by going over to the Saracens and taking with him half his retinue;
thereby not only doing great dishonor to English knighthood and our holy
faith, but by his defection, at the moment victory was inclining in favor of
the Christian host, causing the loss of the day. At the close of the battle
Richard assembled his knights and nobles and publicly degraded by proclamation
of his heralds, the false and traitor knight.

Great was the grief and mortification of king Richard on returning to his
tent. He had lost a friend and a battle, and England had discovered a traitor—
the holy church a renegade. While he was thinking of this treason,
which he believed was caused by the false knight's attachment, of which he
had had rumor, for a beautiful Saracen princes, and sat sad and angry alone
in his pavilion, an attendant announced a stranger who desired particular
audience.

`What name or device giveth he?' demanded the King without looking
up.

`He is a young knight in plain armor without device or blazon, and saith
his name hath nought to do with the matter concerning which he eraves audience,
' answered the page bowing low.

`Let him be ushered to our presence, and guard thou without that there
be no treachery following in his footsteps. God wot! these are times no
man can trust his brother!'

The next moment the page ushered into the king's presence a young
knight, for so his light and graceful form bespoke him, in a plain suit of
Milan steel. His visor was barred, and a knight's grey cloak was suspended
from his shoulders.

`How, sir knight! Unbar! Comest thou masked into our presence?' said
the king sternly: `The iron visor is for the battle field and not for the
tent.'

`I crave indulgence of your majesty,' answered the knight with firmness
yet deference. `I have come to thee to offer to wipe out the stain which
English Chivalry has this day received!' Here his voice faltered with emotion.

`Ha! Says't thou?' started up Richard! `this is a great word! The
blood of the false knight only by his own hand shed, can alone for it. But
who art thou that makest this boast?'

`May it please your majesty I desire for the present to be unknown. I
have sought thee to learn if the blood of thy Earl of — be shed by his
own hand for this treason, that it shall be atoned for to his race. He has a
son and daughter.'

`I am told he expected both in Palestine! How their youthful spirits will
weep! for to them hath he given the inheritance of the black name he hath
himself won this day,' said Richard with vehemence! `To them extends
the curse, as to every knight in Briton the dishonor. But what dost thou
come to me with?'

`That ere three days the head of the traitor shall lay at thy feet!'

`Do it, and by the holy Calvary, wert thou the foul fiend himself thou

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shouldst have knighthood. Make good thy words and the title and confiscated
estates of the false Earl shall be thine. Thy act shall wipe out his
dishonor.'

`I do this, your majesty, not for any hope of meed or merit, but to restore
purity to the tainted escutcheon of England—to punish a traitor.'

`I would fain know thee; but be thy secret thy own till this time three
days. Go, and do this if thou canst; for while the traitor lives, England
stands disgraced! the scorn of christians and scoff of infidels!'

The knight silently made a low obeisance to the king and left his presence.

`Now, by my good sword, this hath been a strange interview!' said the
king after the knight had departed. `Who he is that hath such heart-honor
in England's disgrace I know not! yet he bath a bold speech, and if he can
get near the traitor will, I doubt not, give a good account of him. I did think
before he entered, that I would proclaim as a reward this traitor's Earldom
to whoever should slay him, and with his blood wipe out our foul dishonor!
and lo! here Heaven hath sent a man who bath taken it upon himself,
By the mass! he hath some deep motive couched close aneath his corslet,
which I cannot fathom. Yet so as he bring me the traitor's head that I may
rear it on a pole in sight of both the Pagan and Christian hosts, I care not
what private matter prompteth him to the deed. He must have access to the
city I wot not of—and by the cross he should, were he a true knight, show
it is. But I will wait the issue.'

Thus speaking, the king threw himself upon his couch and was soon sunk
in deep sleep, oblivious alike of friend or traitor, of Christian or Paynim.

The young knight on quitting the presence of the king, vaulted into his
saddle and galloped away under cover of night. At a distance from the
camp he joined another person habited as a page. A few words passed between
them, and they rode in the direction of the beleagued city, which with
its towers and battlements rose high and frowningly into the dark skies.—
Here and there a light upon the walls showed where sentinels were stationed;
and at intervals came borne upon the breeze the voices of the sentinels,
showing to the foe that they kept good watch.

As the knight came beneath the towers of the chief gate he drew rein and
surveyed for a while the moat with its lifted draw bridge and the closed portal
beyond.

`That we cannot enter the city save by stratagem is plain,' he said to his
page. `We must suffer ourselves to be taken prisoners, and leave the issue
to Heaven!'

`Amen!' repeated the other in a low voice which was tremulous with
feeling.

At this moment a party of Saracen horse that had been making the rounds
of the walls came trotting up. On seeing them the knight and his companion
cantered towards them.

`Ho! stand!' cried the Captain of the troop! Cross or Crescent?'

`Cross! but we yield ourselves your prisoners!' answered the Knight.

They were instantly disarmed and conducted by a postern into the city,
and thence before the Saracen Prince, whom the knight desired to be
brought. The Oriental Prince was in his palace engaged in feasting with
his chief men, at a banquet given partly in honor of the victory he had gained
over the Christian host, and partly in honor of the acquisition to his own
of the caitif English Earl who was seated on his right hand. At the close
of the feast it was announced to the prince that a christian knight and his
page had been taken prisoners, who desired to be brought into his presence.

`Fetch them hither,' said the Saracen with pride; `I would question them

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how Richard the Lion liketh his discomfiture. And particularly how he
beareth the loss of his friend and counsellor.'

The traiterous Earl when this announce was made turned pale; for conscious
of his great crime, he suspected some evil purpose lurked under this
coming of the imprisoned knight. The knight and his page were brought
in guarded and led up to the place where the king and the British Earl
sat.

`How is this; hew off his visor, that he cometh into royal presence thus
barred!' he said as firmly as king Richard had before done. Who art
thou?'

`An English knight. Having desire to confer with the knight who now
sitteth beside your majesty, I suffered myself to be taken prisoner and brought
before you.'

`Would Richard buy him back?' repeated the infidel scornfu'ly; `if so
tell him there is within our palace a pair of bright eyes that have proved
more potent than even himself! How sayest thou, Christian knight?'

The Earl smiled faintly; for he was intent in observing the knight and
the countenance of his page, and seemed to be troubled in his thoughts.

`King Richard hath spoken but little, I have heard, of this matter,' answered
the knight freely. `He hath too many good knights to heed the loss
of one.'

`Well spoken.'

`What is thy name?' asked the traitor Earl suddenly rising up, and speaking
with great vehemence.

The knight in reply unbarred his visor, and said `Thy son!'

`His son!' cried the king; `then by the beard of Mahomet we have two
of them!

The Earl gazed an instant upon his son's face between doubt and desire
to embrace him; but seeing him smile, and hearing from his lips that he
came to join his fortunes with his, he rushed forward and embraced him.—
The young knight returned it with seeming affection. The king witnessing
this meeting was not a little pleased, and commanding room to be made placed
the son next the father

The joy of the Saracen king in having two Christian knights in his host
was very great. The ensuing day he entertained them both with great honor,
making them presents of jewels and armour, and giving each a high command
for the defence of the walls and gates of the temple. The third day
was to be celebrated the ceremonial of the Earl's abjuration of the faith of
the cross and the adoption of the faith of Mahomet, when he was to receive
the hand of the beautiful princess for whose charms he had sacrificed honor
country and religion. As his son also readily assented to become a Mahommedan,
and in all things seemed to approve of what his father did, the Earl
gave him his full confidence. He was however not a little surprised at his
readiness to unite with him, as he well knew his high sense of knightly faith
and his love of that country of which he himself had become renegade.

It was the eve of the day on which the rite, which was to make an infidel
of a christian Earl, was to be performed. The young knight had just returned
from a review of Saracen cavalry, on the public square of the Mosque,
His page was with him. They were standing together in a window of the
palace that overlooked the Christian camp, which with its pennons, and
cross emblazoned banners, and snow-white pavilions, and long lines of
troops, with their arms glittering in the setting sun, made a gallant
show.

`Alas, Eva,' said the youth, sighing, `alas, that our father should have
brought such dishonor upon the land of our birth, upon the honor of

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knighthood; upon ourselves, to whom will descend this ignominy and shame!'

`Not, brother.' said the page firmly, `not if we wipe out the dishonor as
it becomes us to do! For then as widely as his infamy shall be known, so
broad shall be bruited the deed by which his children avenged England,
Knighthood, and their own dishonor!'

`You speak truly, sister! For this deed of retribution we solemnly consecrated
ourselves, when on our arrival in the camp, we heard in every
man's mouth the talk of our father's foul infamy! To this task are we devoted,
and we must succeed or perish alike in the ignominy of our tarnished
name. To-morrow is the rite to be performed which will put the seal,
not only to his crime on earth, but shut forever the gates of heaven against
his perjured soul. Let us do ere then, that if he die he may at least have
hope of salvation!'

`It is a fearful deed!' said the page in a suppressed tone; `yet it must be
done! It is painful for a child's hand to aim at a father's heart!'

`Let no weakness unnerve thee!' said the young man resolutely. `He is
no longer our father! We own no infidel, no traitor, no renegade as our
father! Let him perish!'

`Be it so!' answered the maiden firmly. `I have the watchword of the
market gate, out of which at midnight I am to lead a troop with our false
and traitorous father, who acquainted with the secret ways of access to the
Christian camp is to fall upon it unawares. This hour the deed must be
done! He must not live to do our army mischief—he must not live to lose
his immortal soul to-morrow. Follow me!'

They left the window, and rapidly traversed the palace till they came to
the chamber of the renegade Earl. They found him seated at the feet of
the Saracen princess, whose beauty had been his rain.

`Let them both perish,' whispered the young knight to his sister. `Slay
thou the sorceress, when I give thee the signal. May heaven in its mercy
assoilzie our father's soul, for he will have, I fear me, short shrift!'

`Welcome, my son!' said the Earl.

`Thou hast been deceived in my seeming acquiesence, thou unworthy
father, thou traitorous knight, thou false Christian!' cried his son. `I have
sought thee here within the infidel city, to slay thee, and in thy blood wipe
out our foul disgrace! The page whom thou seest is my sister—thy child.
The once loved Eva! By both our hands thou shalt perish!'

The surprised and horror-struck traitor was speechless with amazement.
He made a faint effort to draw his sword to defend himself, but the glittering
weapon of his son passed through his heart! At the same moment the
dagger of the page was buried in the bosom of the Saracen princess.

`God pardon me! but my father's head must be the sign that I have done
the deed!' he said, and severed it from the body.

Wrapping it in his cloak he left the palace-chamber, followed by Eva
who bore away the jewelled tiara of the princess, and also her long and
beautiful hair, which she cut from her head.

The knight got out of the palace in safety, and the knowledge of the password
of the gate availed him at the barriers; and in less than twenty minutes
after this bold and singular deed had been committed, he was outside
of the city walls, attended by his sister, galloping at full speed towards the
Christian camp, and leaving far behind the noise and uproar of alarm which
had followed the discovery of the bodies of the traitor and princess in the
chamber of the palace.

King Richard was in his pavilion surrounded by his chief knights and
warriors, whom he had assembled for the purpose of consulting on the best
expedient for getting possession of the city.

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`Did not your majesty say,' asked an old English knight, Sir Harvey
Chester, `that one had had audience of you of late, who boasted he could
come so near the false Earl as to bring you his head? I'faith, if he could
do this, your majesty, it were well to get him to show us the way to the inner
seat of the town; for there, and none elsewhere will the traitor be hid
from fear of falling into our way.'

`You speak with some irony, Sir Chester,' said Richard; `this braggart
hath had his boast before me, and gone again. Got wot, if he ever be seen
more.'

`Your majesty,' said an attendant, entering at the moment, `a knight,
who giveth neither name nor device, attended by a page, desireth audience.
'

`This sounds like my braggart,' said Richard. `Pray God, if it be he, he
brings with him what he promised. Ah, welcome, Sir knight! We little
expected to behold thee so promptly. What news bringest thou?'

`There is my budget,' answered the knight, withdrawing from beneath
his cloak and casting upon the table the gory head of the traitorous
Earl.

`By the cross of God!' exclaimed Richard, starting up with surprise and
joy, as the light fell strongly upon its upturned features; `it is the head of
the traitor! Thou hast well redeemed thy promise. Hast thou been in the
city, bold knight?'

`Yes! I found him in dalliance with the pagan princess, who seduced
him from his allegiance. She was slain by my page, who holds in his
hand her tiara and hair.'

`Before God, gentles and knights, all of ye,' said Richard, looking round
upon those present, `this is no light deed of knightly prowess! This stranger
knight deserveth honor. Now in the traitor's blood is the foul stain
wiped out of England's shield, and washed from the scroll of chivalry!—'

`And removed from the inheritance of his children,' said the young
knight, lifting his visor and kneeling before Richard, side by side with his
sister; Know, O, king, that we are the son and daughter of the Earl who
has brought such foul blot upon chivalry. We arrived four days since in
camp, and learning of our father's treason, we walked on foot to the chapel
of the holy cross, and kneeling on the spot where stood the sacred cross,
once wet with Jesus' blood, we swore to avenge our father's name, in himself
so basely wronged. After leaving your presence, I suffered myself to
be taken prisoner by the Saracen, and being brought before Saladin, was, as
my father's son, released and appointed to a post of honor. Taking advantage
of my father's confidence in me, I this night slew him, and aided by
my knowledge of the pass-word, left the city in safety, and am now here
having redeemed my promise!'

`And by the Rock of Horeb! I as king and knight will redeem mine!—
From this hour is the taint removed forever from thy name, Norman Howard,
and as far as the winds shall bear thy father's treason, shall be borne
thy noble deed of this night. Thou hast ennobled thy name higher than it
hath ere yet stood, and to thee knighthood in England owe a boon that posterity
can never redeem. Chivalry hath not a deed in all its high roll of
achievements the match of thine!'

Thus speaking, King Richard embraced him, and kissing the hand of the
equally spirited Eva, elevated them both to a seat of honor near him, and
gave a banquet for their entertainment; and from that day, the treason of
the Earl was never spoken of but to introduce the noble and chivalrous
deed of his son, the young knight, Norman Howard.”

Thus ended Sir Henry Percie's story, which, in the recital had command

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ed the close attention of all his audience; and the marks of approbation
with which it was received, augured favorably for it the decision of the majority.

A warm and animated discussion now ensued, and at length it was decided
by a vote, in favor of the chivalry of England, for in the opinion of all,
none of the other knights whose achievements had been given, had manifested
such a high and chivalrous principle as had actuated the youthful
bosom of Norman Howard. The English knight on hearing this, expressed
himself much gratified by the compliment paid his country; but remarked
that the `Tules of the knights of the Seven Lands,' had shown him that
true chivalry belonged not to any one land, but had its home in every heart
where dwelt virtue, honor, and true patriotism.