Books: Masters of the Guild

L >> L. Lamprey >> Masters of the Guild

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Sir Stephen smiled at the two puzzled young faces.

"Nay, more," he went on, "even the followers of Mahound revere Christ as a
prophet. Their name for Him is Ruh' Allah. I have seen a Moslem beat his
Christian slave for using an oath that dishonored the name of Christ. In
truth, I have come to think that there are very few unbelievers in the
world. Much wickedness there is--but not unbelief."

"Mother says," Eleanor ventured shyly, "that you are going away to live
among the paynim."

"Aye." The knight smiled his fleeting, tender smile. "It is a grief to
her, sweet lady, that I cannot dwell in comfort among you and think no
more of voyages. But there is a work laid upon me, which I must do."

"A Crusade?" The word was just inside Roger's lips, and it slipped out
before he thought. Sir Stephen smiled again.

"Nay. My fighting days are over. But I believe that even a broken man may
serve if he be honestly so minded. I must tell you that for many years I
had been troubled, and found no peace, because even among churchmen there
was sloth and selfish greed, and the desire to rule, and the pilgrims whom
I met seemed often moved rather by vanity and love of change than from any
true fear of God. But as you know, I had but begun my homeward journey
when our ship was taken by pirates and the few who were left alive were
sold as slaves.

"It is not needful to tell all that befell me as a bondman among the Moors
of Barbary. My master was a renegade knight who had forsworn the Cross and
risen to some preferment among the Almohades. His hate was upon me day and
night, and I knew that my lady and my kindred must believe me dead. And in
that black horror of loneliness and despair I found my faith.

"God speaks to us not always in books, nor in words, nor in one place more
than another. His ways are as the wind that blows where it will. It is not
what men do to us that kills--it is what they make of us. They cannot make
a soul cruel or foul or treacherous, that hath not lost God. What is the
power of a multitude? Christ died. And His life is the light of men.

"Knighthood is a fair and noble thing, but its vows have no magic--no more
than the oaths of the guilds, or the monastic orders, or the allegiance of
the vassal to his lord. It is the living spirit that keeps the vows--and
when that is gone their power is less than nothing. Once I could not see
how it was possible for a man to renounce his knighthood and his Lord. I
have lived with such a man, and I know that it came of his losing faith.
He lost the power to believe in good. I think that he hated me because I
reminded him of his own land and all that he no longer wished to remember.

"Now having known the scourge and the fetters, I may speak to the bondman
as a brother. I am alone, with none to need me. Therefore I go hence to
join the brethren who are giving their lives to this ministry."

The Palmer rose to his feet as if in haste to be gone. "I weary you
perchance with talk too serious for holiday-time," he said with that quick
smile of his, "but when you come to your own work you will know how close
to the heart that lies. Now be glad and make others glad--it was never
God's will, I am right sure, that this world should be a doleful place for
the young."

The piercing silvery notes of the trumpets in the chill air, the trampling
of horses in the bailey, gave notice of the arrival of guests. There was
no more leisure that day.

In the glitter and glow and splendor of the banquet hall, with its music
and gayety, the tall gray figure of the Palmer moved like a spirit. As the
guests came one after another to speak with him of his experiences and his
plans, their kindling faces proved his rare power of making them see what
he saw. To Stephen Giffard the presence of God was as real as the sunrise.
In the light of his utter self-sacrifice the loyalty, sweetness and
courage of other lives seemed to shine out more brightly. It was all one
with the immortal world of Christendom--ruled by the living spirit of the
child cradled in Bethlehem centuries ago.

THE CRUSADERS

Daily we waited word or sign--
They were our children, these
Who held the unsleeping battle-line
Beyond the haunted seas,
Who gave their golden unlived years
And that clear pathway trod
Lifting through sunset gates of fire
To the far tents of God.

Through trackless realms of unknown space
They wander, unafraid,
For nothing do they fear to face
In worlds that God has made.
Freed from the shattered bonds of earth
They meet their comrades free,
To share the service of the Lord
In truth and loyalty.

Elizabeth's wise admirals guard
Their dear-loved England's coast.
From Somme and Meuse no cannon barred
The Maid's undaunted host.
And still the Foreign Legion hears
In every desperate chance
Her children's crashing battle-cry--
"For France! For France! For France!"

The captains of the hosts of God
Know every man by name,
When from the torn and bleeding sod
Their spirits pass like flame.
The maid must wait her lover still,
The mother wait her son,--
For very love they may not leave
The task they have begun.

If secret plot of greed or fear
Shall bid the trumpets cease,
And bind the lands they held so dear
To base dishonored peace,
How shall their white battalions rest
Or sheathe the sword of light,--
The unbroken armies of our dead,
Who have not ceased to fight!

NOTES

PEIROL OF THE PIGEONS

The troubadour, minstrel and jongleur or joglar, were not the same in
dignity. A troubadour or trouvere was a poet who sang his own compositions
to his own music. A jongleur was a singer who was not a poet, though he
might make songs. He corresponded more nearly to the modern vaudeville
performer. The minstrel was something between the two.

THE TAPESTRY CHAMBER

Saint George was not formally adopted as the patron saint of England until
some time after this.

LULLABY OF THE PICT MOTHER

This song may be sung to a very old Scotch air called "O can ye sew
cushions."

THE WOLVES OF OSSORY

The werewolf superstition is very persistent, and has been held in many
countries until quite recent times.

ST. HUGH AND THE BIRDS

The reference is to St. Hugh, Bishop of Lincoln, who is represented with
his pet swan in most of his portraits. He founded a Carthusian monastery
by the invitation of Henry II., at Witham in Somerset, and built the choir
and a considerable part of Lincoln Cathedral. The stories of his love for
birds are found in old chronicles.

THE SWORD OF DAMASCUS

An armorer's shop very like the one described has been brought from
Abbeville and set up in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in one of the rooms
devoted to armor.

THE WISDOM OF THE GALLEYS

"Y'Allah!" (O God!) is a common exclamation, often used as meaning "Make
Haste!" Abu Hassan is "the father of Hassan," In Moslem countries a father
often uses his son's name in this way, allowing his own to be almost
forgotten.

Khawaja, Khawadji or Howadji is a title of respect given exclusively to
unbelievers.

The Breach of Roland--Roncesvalles.

Jebel el Tarik--Gibraltar.

Iskanderia--Alexandria.

"Ma sh' Allah!" (What does God mean!) the commonest exclamation of
surprise.

Feringhi--Frankish, French.

Kafir--Infidel, heathen, a term of extreme contempt.

Ahmed ibn Said--Ahmed the son of Said.

THE EBBING TIDE

Hy-Brasail is the Celtic name for the Fortunate Islands, the Isles of
Avilion, said to be situated somewhere west of Europe. The dead were said
to go westward to these islands, which were a paradise.

THE END OF A PILGRIMAGE

John de Matha founded the Order of the Holy Trinity, sometimes known as
the Redemptorist Fathers, sometimes as the Mathurins. He was afterward
made a saint. He was the first to make any serious effort to alleviate the
condition of prisoners, especially slaves among the Moslems.

The legend of the Star of Bethlehem referred to is one which is still
current in India.

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