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
“I—I have heard it long now, more’s the pity,” faltered John, “and—and
I’d have spoken anything to be rid of that shape.”
“And wert thou rid? What befell then?”
“It cursed the Prince, and King, and all of them,” said John with a
shudder; “it looked black and deadly, and I crossed myself, and said the
Blessed Name, and no doubt it writhed itself and went off in brimstone
and smoke, for I shut my eyes, and when I looked up again it was gone!”
“Gone! Didst look after him?”
“Oh, no! Earthly things are all food for a brave man’s sword,” said
Master John, drawing himself up very valiantly, “but wraiths and things
from beneath—they do scare the very heart out of a man. And I lay, I
don’t know how, till Dame Idonea came in; and she said either the foul
fiend had put on thy shape because he boded thee ill, or it was one of
the traitor brood looking for his like.”
“Tell me, John,” said Richard anxiously; “surely he was not in all points
like me. Had he our English white cross?”
“I cannot say as to the cross,” said John; “meseemed it was all
you—yourself—and that was all—only I thought your voice was strange and
hollow—and—now I think of it—yes—he was bearded—brown bearded. And,”
with a sudden thought, “stand up, prithee, in the opening of the tent;”
and then taking his post where he had been sitting at the time of the
apparition, “He was not so tall as thou art. Thy head comes above the
fold of the curtain, and his, I know, did not touch it, for I saw the
light over it. Then thou dost not think it was thy wraith?” he added
anxiously.
“I think my wraith would have measured me more exactly both in stature
and in age,” said Richard lightly. “But how did Leonillo comport
himself? He brooks not a stranger in general; and dogs cannot endure the
presence of a spirit.”
“Ah! but he fawned upon this one, and thrust his nose into his hand,”
said John, “and I think he must have run after him; for it was so long
ere he came back to me, that I had feared greatly he was gone, and oh,
Richard! then I must have gone too! I could never have met you without
Leonillo.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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