The Prince and the Page: A Story of the Last Crusade

by Charlotte M. Yonge

“More than pardon—thank thee—since he is safe,” whispered Richard, and as Simon bent over him the boy crossed his brow, and returned a look of absolute joy.

Simon sped away; and the Prince, when left alone with Richard, put no restraint upon the warmth of his feelings, and his tears fell fast and freely.

“Boy, boy,” he said; “I little thought thou wast to bear what was meant for me!” And then, with tenderness that would have seemed foreign to his nature, he inquired into the pain that Richard was suffering, tried to make his position more easy, and lamented that he could not venture to draw out the weapon until the leeches should come.

“It has been my best hope,” said Richard; “and now that it should have been thus. With your goodness I have nothing—nothing to wish. Sir Raynald will be here—I have only my charge for Henry to give him—and poor Leonillo!”

“I will bear thy charges to Henry,” said the Prince. “Nor shall he think thou didst betray his secret. I will watch over him so far as he will let me, and do all I may for his child. Yet it may be thou wilt still return. I hear the stir in the House. They will be here anon. Thou must live, Richard, my friend, where I have few friends. I thought to have knighted thee, boy, when thou hadst won fame. Oh, would that I had shown thee more of my love while it was time!”

“All, all I hoped or longed for I have,” murmured Richard. “If you see Henry, my Lord, bear him my greetings—and to poor Adam—yea, and my mother. Oh! would that I could make them all know your kindness and my joy—that it should be thus!”

By this time the whole Hospital was astir, and the knights and lay brethren came flocking out in consternation and dread of finding their royal host himself murdered within their cloisters.

Great was the confusion, and eager the search for the assassin, while others crowded round the Prince, who still would not give up his post of supporting the sufferer in his arms, while a few moments’ examination convinced the experienced infirmarers that the wound was mortal, and that the extraction of the dagger would but hasten death, which could not be other than very near. Indeed, Richard already spoke with such difficulty that only the Prince’s ear could detect his entreaty that Raynald Ferrers might act as his priest. Raynald was already near, only withheld by the crowd of knights of higher degree who had thronged before him. Richard looked up to him with a face that in all its mortal agony seemed to ask congratulation. The power of making confession was gone, and when Raynald would have offered to take him in his own arms, both he and the Prince showed disinclination to the move. So thus they still remained, while the young knightly priest spoke the words of Absolution, and then, across the solemn darkness of the garden, amid the light of tapers, the Host was borne from the Chapel, while the low subdued chant of the brethren swelled up through the night air. Poor little John of Dunster, with his arms round Leonillo’s neck, to keep him from disturbing his master, knelt, sobbing as though his heart would break, but trying to stifle the sounds as the priest’s voice came grave and full on the silent air, responded to by the gathered tones of the brethren: the fountain bubbled on, and the wakening birds began to stir in the trees.

Once more Richard opened his eyes, looked up at his Prince, and smiled. That smile remained while Edward kissed his brow with fervour, laid him down on the cushions, and rising to his feet, bowed his head to the Grand Master, but did not even strive to speak, and gravely walked across the cloister, with a slow though steady step, to his own chamber. No one saw him again till the sun was high, when, with looks as composed as ever, he went forth to lay his page’s head in the grave, and thence visit and calm the fears of his Princess.

Search had everywhere been made for the assassin, but no traces of him were found. Only the strange pilgrim had vanished in the confusion; and the Prince never contradicted the Grand Master in his indignation that a Moslem hound should have assumed such a disguise.