IN far-off Palestine the army of the crusaders lay encamped before
the town of Acre. The air was hot and stifling, the sun seemed
a ball of fire hung in the still blue sky. Having put off his
heavy armor for the sake of coolness Prince Edward lay within
his tent, wearing only a long, loose robe of linen. He lay idle,
thinking perhaps of the mighty deeds which his great-uncle, Richard
Cœur de Lion, had done in this same place, eighty years before;
wondering, too, if he would be able to do as great things.
Presently the curtains of the doorway parted. "My lord prince,"
said a soldier, bowing low, "the Emir of Jaffa hath sent
his servant yet again. He craves to be admitted to your presence."
"I will receive him," replied the prince, and the soldier
once more left the tent.
Edward had been fighting with the Emir of Jaffa, but now, pretending
that he wished to become a Christian, this Emir sent daily messages
and presents to the prince. And the prince, noble and honest himself,
believed the Emir to be honest too.
In a few minutes the curtains of the doorway parted once more
and the Emir's dark slave crept in. He bowed himself to the ground,
then, kneeling humbly before the prince, drew out a letter.
Edward took the letter and, as the prince read, the slave crouched
on the ground watching him with his bright dark eyes. Then slowly,
slowly his brown hand crept to the belt of his white dress. So
slowly it crept that it seemed hardly to move.
Suddenly, as quick as lightning, a keen bright blade flashed
in the air and fell. But Edward, too, was quick and strong. He
threw up his hand and caught upon it the blow which had been aimed
at his heart. Then, springing from the couch, he overthrew the
slave, and placing his foot upon the man's neck, wrenched the
dagger from his grasp. In another moment the slave lay still and
dead upon the sand. At the noise of the struggle, several frightened
servants came running into the tent, and one of them, seeing the
slave upon the sand, seized a stool, and dashed his brains out.
"Foolish man," said Prince Edward, "see you not
that the slave is already dead? What you do is neither brave nor
honorable, but the action of a coward."
Prince Edward's wound was slight, but the dagger had been a poisoned
one. When his wife, the beautiful Princess Eleanor, heard of it,
she hurried to her husband's tent. Before those about her knew
what she meant to do, she knelt down and, putting her lips to
the wound, sucked it. It was said that if the blood from a poisoned
wound was sucked at once after the wound was made, the wounded
person would not die. It was a brave thing for Princess Eleanor
to do, for she might herself have died. But she loved Edward so
much that she was willing to risk her own life. Yet the wound
grew worse, and it seemed likely that Edward would die.
He was very calm and brave, and did not fear death, but tried
to comfort his friends and servants, for they were all very sorrowful.
But the princess sat beside him weeping, and would not be comforted.
Then, calling for parchment and ink, Prince Edward wrote down
all that he wished to be done with his money and lands, after
he was dead. This was called making his will.
Now a clever doctor came to the prince and said, "I think
I can cure you, only you will have to suffer a great deal of pain."
"Do what you think best," said the prince, "and
cure me if you can."
Then the princess threw herself upon him crying bitterly, and
would not let any one touch him. "I know you only want to
hurt him more," she sobbed, "I cannot bear it."
But Edward gently put her away, "Hush, hush," he said,
and gave her into his brother Edmund's arms.
"Do you love your lord and brother?" asked the doctor,
turning to Edmund.
"Ay, that I do," replied he.
"Then take this lady away, and do not let her lord see her
again until I tell you."
So Princess Eleanor was led away weeping.
"Ah, weep, lady," said Edmund gently. "It is better
that you should weep than that all England should mourn."
But England did not mourn, for the doctor was clever, and in
less than a fortnight Prince Edward was again quite well.
The false Emir sent messengers to Edward to say that he was sorry
that the prince had been wounded, and was glad that he was better.
But Edward no longer trusted the Emir. He looked gravely at the
messengers. "You bow before me," he said, "but
you do not love me, therefore go."
And they were allowed to go in peace. Although Edward's soldiers
longed to be revenged upon them and kill them, the prince would
not allow it.
After this Edward did not stay long in Palestine. He heard that
his father was ill, so he made a ten years' peace with the Sultan,
as the king of the Turks is called, and sailed back to England.
On his way home he heard of his father's death. He knew that that
meant he was now King of England, but he was very sad, for Edward
had loved his father, although he could not help knowing that
in many things he was foolish and untrustworthy.
