Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

The grate of the barbican was open, and at the distance of a few yards within its limits stood several of the soldiers of the guard, with the prévôt. Not a little surprise was excited amongst these by the sudden approach of an armed knight, and at his as sudden pause.

"What seek ye, sir knight?" demanded the prévôt,--"what seek ye here?"

"News of the queen's health," replied the monarch. "I am forbidden to pass the gate; but, I pray thee, sir prévôt, send to inquire how fares the queen this morning."

The officer willingly complied, though he somewhat marvelled at the stranger's churlishness in resting without the threshold. The reply brought from within by the messenger was that the queen had been seized but a few minutes before by one of those swoons that so much afflicted her, but that she had already recovered, and was better and more cheerful since. The message, the man added, had been dictated by the lady herself, which showed that she was better indeed, for in general she seldom spoke to any one.

It fell like a sweet drop of balm upon Philip's heart. There was something told him that he had been recognised, and that Agnes had been soothed and pleased, by the romantic mark of his love that he had given; that she had felt for him, and with him; and dictated the reply he had received, in order to give back to his bosom the alleviation that his coming had afforded to her. With these sweet imaginations he fell into a deep reverie, and forgetful of the eyes that were upon him, paused for several minutes before the barbican, and then, slowly returning on his steps, descended the hill to the thicket, where he had left his horse; and throwing the bridle over his arm, led him on the path by which he had come.

"The churl!" said one of the soldiers, looking after him. "He did not vouchsafe one word of thanks for our doing his errand."

"Another madman! I will warrant thee!" said a second archer.

"He is no madman that," replied the prévôt thoughtfully. "Put your fingers on your lips, and hold your tongues, good fellows! I have heard that voice before;" and, with a meaning nod of the head, he quitted the barbican, and left the soldiers to unravel his mystery if they could.

In the meanwhile the king proceeded slowly on his way, chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies, till he came near the same range of caves which he had passed about an hour before. Every thing was still in the same state; and no human being was visible. The gauntlet remained upon the tree, seemingly only to have been touched by the wind of heaven; and, scarcely thinking what he did, Philip approached, and reaching it with his hand, took it down from the bough to which it was suspended.

As he did so, however, a noise in the cave showed him that his action was not without a witness; and, in a moment after, a tall, powerful man issued forth, and advanced towards him. He was clothed in plate armour, somewhat rusted with the damp; but the fine tracery of gold, by which it had been ornamented, was still visible; and the spurs and belt which he wore proclaimed him a knight. He held his casque in his hand, busying himself as he advanced to disentangle the lacings of it, as if in haste to put it on; and his head was bare, exposing a profusion of long tangled dark hair, which was just beginning to be slightly touched with grey. His face was as pale as ashes, and wan beyond all mortal wanness; and in his large dark eyes there shone a brilliant, wavering, uncertain fire, not to be mistaken for aught but insanity.