In her protracted efforts to quiet the sobbing queen, Elsiebede learned a curious and inexplicable fact, namely, that a greater draft is made upon the patience and energy of the nurse by the over-excited feelings of the sensitive wife, than by the real wants of the sick man himself. Thus the leech had long been dozing upon his watch, ere the anxious Moorish girl had found it possible to leave the bedside of her mistress. At length the incessant calls upon her sympathy subsided into sighs which gradually relaxed into the regular breathing of healthy slumber, and the impatient attendant stealing noiselessly from the apartment sought among the attendants for the wily Salaman.
“Awake, Salaman,” she whispered, softly. The black instantly arose, without salutation or remark, and stood before her rolling his eyes in perfect self-possession, as though to repel the suspicion that a person of his active vigilance could have been detected in the weakness of slumber. Laying her finger upon her lip, Elsiebede led the way among sleeping guards to the little enclosure in front of the tent. “Bring me,” said she, “the signet-ring from the hand of the king.” Salaman, who had long labored under the hallucination that no feat could be beyond his ability, looked absolutely sober at this unheard-of proposition, ejaculating, “It is to put my head into the lion’s mouth!” but instantly recovering his self-complacency, he added, “Nothing can be easier. Remain here till I come.” Skilfully avoiding the tent ropes, he wormed himself under the folds of the pavilion into the outer apartment, where the chamberlain and guard were snoring in melodious concert, and carefully lifting the curtain entered the royal presence. But through the darkness that reigned, he could not readily discern the precise location of the monarch’s couch. Creeping stealthily over the floor, he first laid his hand upon the foot of the physician, which with an instinctive kick warned him of his dangerous vicinity. Finally, as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he discovered the sparkle of the jewel upon the hand of the monarch, hanging over the side of the bed. To withdraw the ring from the somewhat attenuated finger was the work of a moment, but the touch, however slight, was sufficient to disturb the slumbering lion. “Ha! the foul fiend!” ejaculated the dreamer, clutching the woolly hair of the negro. “The talisman is safe—cheer—thee—Berengaria—” Inarticulate sounds followed, which finally died away in silence; when Salaman, with practised caution, extricated his head from the lion’s paw, and effected his retreat by the same stealthy and tedious process. Elsiebede awaited his coming with torturing impatience. Grasping the ring, she muffled her face in the veil usually worn by eastern females, and bidding him follow her took her way towards the city. The moon, just dipping its silver rim in the Mediterranean with its parting beam, threw the lengthened shadow of the patrol full across their way. Cowering behind the awning of a tent they paused breathless and terrified, while the sentinel, turning his face towards Jerusalem, shouted above their heads in a tone rendered clear and startling by the stillness of the midnight, “Help! Help! Help for the Holy Sepulchre!” The adjacent sentinel took up the cry, repeating the words to his neighbor, who passed the watchword on, till “Help! Help! Help for the Holy Sepulchre!” echoed in all the languages of Europe, smote upon the ear of every sleeper in the christian camp. When the sounds died away in the distance, the patrol continued his round. The terror of Elsiebede afforded infinite amusement to Salaman, whose irrepressible laughter added to her fears of being discovered, and increased her trepidation.
After this adventure they pursued their course with renewed speed, and arrived without molestation at the outpost, where the guard challenged their advance. Elsiebede presented the monarch’s signet saying, “Delay not our errand,” and the guard muttering, “There is ever some woman’s prank in the light head of the queen,” suffered them to pass. As they took their solitary way between the camp and the walls of Acre, Salaman ventured to inquire, “Whither goest thou, Elsiebede?”
“I scarce know,” replied the girl, in a husky voice, “but this evening there came before King Richard, one who looked upon me with my mother’s eyes; and as he left the pavilion, he whispered me in the language of the Gyptianos, ‘Meet me when the moon sets, at the tower of Maledictum.’”
“This way lieth the tower,” said Salaman, drawing her to the right. They now approached the black and frowning walls of Acre, and turning an angle came close upon a small party of Turks sleeping upon the earth, and were challenged in the Moorish tongue. Salaman readily answered in the same language. Mestoc immediately advanced, and taking the hand of Elsiebede led her apart, and a long and earnest conversation ensued.
When she returned to Salaman, tears were on her cheek, and hiding her face in her veil, with no other explanation than, “He is the brother of my mother,” she led the way back to the royal tent. “Haste thee,” said she, thrusting the ring into his hand. “Should the prince awake, we are lost.” Salaman sped on his errand, and repeated his perilous adventure with success. Not daring, however, to place the ring upon the monarch’s finger, he laid it upon the covering near his hand, and effected a retreat, as far as the anteroom, where he unluckily stumbled against the settle on which rested the guard. The chamberlain instantly started to his feet, and Salaman quick as thought overturned the light, and escaped into the sleeping apartment of the common attendants, but here his progress was arrested by a half-awakened soldier, who seized his ankle and held him fast. Hither as soon as the lamp could be relighted, he was pursued by the chamberlain, but such was the confusion, betwixt the muttering of those unwilling to be disturbed, and the blunders of those who fancied themselves broad awake, such was the cursing of devil, Turk and Infidel, that no one had the faintest idea of what had happened. Scarcely had the chamberlain fixed his eyes upon the real culprit, when with the angry and important air of a responsible person, most unceremoniously wakened, Elsiebede entered, and advancing straight to Salaman, seized and began to shake him with the greatest violence, thus freeing him from the grasp of the guard. “Waken, minion,” said she, “waken, I say. What gambols art thou playing again in thy sleep? I warrant me, thou hast an unquiet conscience. My lady will send thee from her service, if thou dost not confess thy sins, and rest in peace.” The black rubbed his eyes, and stumbling about like one but half awake, succeeded in gaining his pallet, and joyfully ensconced himself beneath the covering.
“Thou seest,” said Elsiebede, turning to the chamberlain, “the knave hath a trick of sleep-walking. Order these that they may remain quiet, for I would not that my mistress should be disturbed.” Thus saying, she quitted the apartment.
“A trick of walking, he certainly hath,” grumbled the chamberlain, “but whether sleeping or waking, misdoubts me. The misshapen unbeliever can bring no good to a christian household.”
In the royal tent, there was still greater clamor. The monarch roused by the first unlucky step of Salaman, and finding himself in darkness, vociferated loudly for a light; but gaining no answer waxed wroth, and seizing the medicine cup as the readiest missile, hurled it in the direction of the snoring physician. The silver coming in contact with the skull of the doctor, animated him to a remarkable degree; betwixt the darkness and the pain, he plunged about the room without knowing for what intent, till he fell prostrate across the couch of the king, who mistaking him for an invading Turk, beat him terribly with the pillows; and roaring for sword, spear and battle-axe, in the name of all the saints in the calendar, defied him to mortal combat.