The Prince and the Page: A Story of the Last CrusadeYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Prince and the Page: A Story of the Last Crusade
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Crusades -- Eighth, 1270 -- Fiction
Extending around the interior of the external wall, they enclosed an
exquisite Eastern garden, perfumed with flowering shrubs, shady with
trees, and lovely with tall white lilies, hollyhocks, purple irises,
stars of Bethlehem, and many another Eastern flower, which would send
forth seeds or roots for the supply of the trim gardens of Western
convents. The soft bubbling of fountains gave a sense of delicious
freshness; doves flew hither and thither, and their soft murmuring was
heard in the branches; and at certain openings in their foliage might be
seen the azure of the Mediterranean, which little John of Dunster
persisted in calling too blue—why could it not be a sober proper-coloured
sea like his own Bristol Channel?
Richard was very happy here. There was something of the same charm as in
modern days is experienced in staying at a college. The brethren were
thorough monks in religious observance, but they were also high-bred
nobles, and had seen many wild adventures, and hard-fought battles, and
moreover, had entertained in turn almost every variety of pilgrim who had
visited the Holy Land; so that none could have been found who had more of
interest to tell, or more friendly hospitable kindness towards their
guests. Richard was a favourite there, not only as a friend of Reginald
Ferrers, but as acquainted with the Grand Prior, Sir Robert Darcy, whose
memory was still green in Palestine. Tales of his feats of mighty
strength still lingered at Acre; how he had held together, by his single
arm, the gates of a house in the retreat from Damietta, against a whole
troop of Mamelukes, until every Christian had left it on the other side,
and then had slowly followed them, not a Moslem daring to attack him; how
he had borne off wounded knights on his back, and on sultry marches would
load himself with the armour of any one who was exhausted, and never fail
to declare it was exactly what he liked best! More than once it had been
intimated that Richard de Montfort would be gladly accepted as a brother
of the Order; and he often thought over the offer, but not only was he
unwilling to separate himself from the Prince, but he felt it needful at
any rate to return to England to judge of the condition of his brother
Henry, ere becoming one of an Order where he could no longer dispose of
himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account