Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
The Frankish knight heard him, and answered drily--"Since such are your
sentiments, I wonder that you have ever resided long enough within the
hearing of the French language to learn to speak it as you do. I would
have thought some of the sentiments of the chivalry of the nation,
since you are neither a monk nor a woman, would, at the same time with
the words of the dialect, have found their way into your heart." "Hush,
Sir Count," said Bohemond, who remained by the Emperor to avert the
threatening quarrel. "It is surely requisite to answer the Emperor with
civility; and those who are impatient for warfare, will have infidels
enough to wage it with. He only demanded your name and lineage, which
you of all men can have the least objection to disclose."
"I know not if it will interest this prince, or Emperor as you term
him," answered the Frank Count; "but all the account I can give of
myself is this:--In the midst of one of the vast forests which, occupy
the centre of France, my native country, there stands a chapel, sunk so
low into the ground, that it seems as if it were become decrepid by its
own great age. The image of the Holy Virgin who presides over its
altar, is called by all men our Lady of the Broken Lances, and is
accounted through the whole kingdom the most celebrated for military
adventures. Four beaten roads, each leading from an opposite point in
the compass, meet before the principal door of the chapel; and ever and
anon, as a good knight arrives at this place, he passes in to the
performance of his devotions in the chapel, having first sounded his
horn three times, till ash and oak-tree quiver and ring. Having then
kneeled down to his devotions, he seldom arises from the mass of Her of
the Broken Lances, but there is attending on his leisure some
adventurous knight ready to satisfy the new comer's desire of battle.
This station have I held for a month and more against all comers, and
all gave me fair thanks for the knightly manner of quitting myself
towards them, except one, who had the evil hap to fall from his horse,
and did break his neck; and another, who was struck through the body,
so that the lance came out behind his back about a cloth-yard, all
dripping with blood. Allowing for such accidents, which cannot easily
be avoided, my opponents parted with me with fair acknowledgment of the
grace I had done them."
"I conceive, Sir Knight," said the Emperor, "that a form like yours,
animated by the courage you display, is likely to find few equals even
among your adventurous countrymen; far less among men who are taught
that to cast away their lives in a senseless quarrel among themselves,
is to throw away, like a boy, the gift of Providence."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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