The Prince and the Page: A Story of the Last CrusadeYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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The Prince and the Page: A Story of the Last Crusade
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Crusades -- Eighth, 1270 -- Fiction
“On her who knew that love can conquer death;
Who, kneeling with one arm about her king,
Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath,
Sweet as new buds in spring.”—TENNYSON.
A YEAR had elapsed since the crusaders had landed in Palestine; Nazareth
had been taken, and the Christian host were encamped upon the plain
before Acre, according to their Prince’s constant habit of preferring to
keep his troops in the open field, rather than to expose them to the
temptations of the city—which was, alas! in a state most unworthy of the
last stronghold of Latin Christianity in the Holy Land.
It was on a scorching June day, Whitsun Tuesday, in the exquisite beauty
of an early summer in the mountains of the Levant—when “the flowers
appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the
voice of the turtle is heard in our land; the fig tree putteth forth her
green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell,”—that
Richard de Montfort was descending the wooded sides of Mount Carmel.
Anxious tidings had of late come from England respecting the health of
the little Prince John; and Princess Eleanor was desirous of offering
gifts and obtaining prayers on his behalf, on the part of the good
Fathers of the convent associated with the memory of the great Prophet
who had raised the dead child to life. She herself, however, was at the
time unfit for a mountain ride; and Prince Edward, who was a lay brother
of the Carmelite order, and had fully intended himself to go and offer
his devotions for his child, was so unwell on that day, from the feverish
heat of the summer, that he could not expose himself to the sun; and
Richard was therefore despatched on the part of the royal pair. He had
ascended in the cool of the morning, setting forth before sunrise, and
attending the regular Mass. The good Fathers would fain have detained
him till the heat of the day should be past; but his anxiety not to
overpass in the slightest degree the time fixed by the Prince, made him
resolved on setting out so soon as his errand was sped.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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