Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
The Varangian, his head agitated with the weighty matters which imposed
on him, stopt from time to time as he journeyed through the moonlight
streets, to arrest passing ideas as they shot through his mind, and
consider them with accuracy in all their bearings. His thoughts were
such as animated or alarmed him alternately, each followed by a
confused throng of accompaniments which it suggested, and banished
again in its turn by reflections of another description. It was one of
those conjunctures when the minds of ordinary men feel themselves
unable to support a burden which is suddenly flung upon them, and when,
on the contrary, those of uncommon fortitude, and that best of Heaven's
gifts, good sense, founded on presence of mind, feel their talents
awakened and regulated for the occasion, like a good steed under the
management of a rider of courage and experience.
As he stood in one of those fits of reverie, which repeatedly during
that night arrested his stern military march, Hereward thought that his
ear caught the note of a distant trumpet. This surprised him; a trumpet
blown at that late hour, and in the streets of Constantinople, argued
something extraordinary; for as all military movements were the subject
of special ordinance, the etiquette of the night could hardly have been
transgressed without some great cause. The question was, what that
cause could be?
Had the insurrection broken out unexpectedly, and in a different manner
from what the conspirators proposed to themselves?--If so, his meeting
with his plighted bride, after so many years' absence, was but a
delusive preface to their separating for ever. Or had the crusaders, a
race of men upon whose motions it was difficult to calculate, suddenly
taken arms and returned from the opposite shore to surprise the city?
This might very possibly be the case; so numerous had been the
different causes of complaint afforded to the crusaders, that, when
they were now for the first time assembled into one body, and had heard
the stories which they could reciprocally tell concerning the perfidy
of the Greeks, nothing was so likely, so natural, even perhaps so
justifiable, as that they should study revenge.
But the sound rather resembled a point of war regularly blown, than the
tumultuous blare of bugle-horns and trumpets, the accompaniments at
once, and the annunciation, of a taken town, in which the horrid
circumstances of storm had not yet given place to such stern peace as
the victors' weariness of slaughter and rapine allows at length to the
wretched inhabitants. Whatever it was, it was necessary that Hereward
should learn its purport, and therefore he made his way into a broad
street near the barracks, from, which the sound seemed to come, to
which point, indeed, his way was directed for other reasons.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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