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Heroines of the Crusades. C. A. Bloss
of women, and that for some years a female exercised the sovereign power over the territories of Islamism.
Blondell, upon whose very existence so many doubts have been cast, is, I think, a well-authenticated character, who “plays his part” with great fidelity and truth.
Had I not been limited as to space, the ring in the hand of Violante’s grandson would have projected the catastrophe of the Sicilian Vespers. For the same reason, I could only allude to the strife between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, to the civil wars of France and England, to the Crusade against the Albigenes, and the founding of the Inquisition by St. Dominic, when, in quest of heresy, he traversed the hills and vales of Languedoe, and doomed to death those brave spirits who dared to exercise the right of private judgment.
Eva is the only purely fictitious character of any importance in the work, and she was drawn from life, a portrait which some of you may recognize. Fuller, in his “Holy War,” contradicts the legend of Eleanora’s drawing the poison from Edward’s wound, but adds, “he who shall disprove this pretty fiction shall get to himself little credit,” and I confess I had not the courage thus warned to attempt it.
I would here gratefully acknowledge my obligations to the gentlemen of the Rochester University, through whose politeness I have been permitted to consult several works of early English authors not republished in this country, from which I have made liberal extracts both of facts and language.
In conclusion, I can only say I have endeavored to set before you a true history in a series of entertaining stories. In the former, I am confident I have succeeded both as regards events and chronology; of the latter I am somewhat doubtful; but if my “Heroines” have the effect to awaken curiosity and induce research, I shall feel that “they have their reward.”
Clover Street Sem., Nov. 30th, 1852.
Leaders of Crusades.
| Godfrey of Boulogne, | First | Crusade. |
| Stephen, Count of Blois, | " | " |
| Louis VII. of France, | Second | " |
| Frederic I. Barbarossa, | Third | " |
| Philip II. Augustus, | " | " |
| Richard I. Cœur de Lion, | " | " |
| Henry, Count of Champagne, | Fourth | " |
| Conrad of Germany, | " | " |
| Thibaut, Count of Champagne, | Fifth | " |
| Dandolo, Doge of Venice, | " | " |
| Jean de Brienne, King of Jerusalem, | " | " |
| Hugh X. de Lusignan, Count la Marche, | " | " |
| Andrew II. of Hungary, | Sixth | " |
| Frederic II. of Germany, | " | " |
| Louis IX. of France, | Seventh | " |
| Charles d’Anjou, King of Sicily, | " | " |
| Edward I. of England, | Eighth | " |
ADELA.
Adela. Countess of Blois.
CHAPTER I.
THE NIGHT OF THE 20TH OF MARCH, 1067.
| “Wave high your torches on each crag and cliff Let many lights blaze on our battlements, Shout to them in the pauses of the storm And tell them there is no hope.” Maturin’s Bertram. |
All night long the Lady Matilda, with her becoming children, knelt before the holy shrine in the old Abbey of Feschamp.
Anxiously had they watched through the lingering twilight, for the whitening sails of the Conqueror’s fleet. No sails appeared, and the night fell dark and stormy upon the English channel. Meet was it that prayer should ascend to Him who rules the destiny of nations, for the hopes of all future times were rocked upon that midnight sea. The field of Hastings was won, Harold was slain, England was subdued, and the ships of William the Conqueror, filled with the flower of Norman chivalry, and followed by the sad remnant of Saxon nobles, were speeding to the Norman coast.
Was it Woden the storm-throned, that thus with relentless fury pursued the Viking’s progeny—despoilers of the Saxon race? Was it Thor the thunder-voiced, warning the proud Conqueror that the great heart of England still throbbed with the pulse of Freedom, though the vale of Sanguelac was red with the blood of her bravest sons? Was it the spirit of a milder Faith that prevailed over that night of darkness, spread a calm morning on those troubled waters, and through that all-pervading sunlight scattered blessings countless as the liquid jewels that paved the track of the rescued ships?
The Mora with its splendid convoy was in sight, the bells rang out merrily their matin chimes, and while Matilda lingered to unite in the anthem of thanksgiving and praise, the little Adela, escaping from the care of the attendants, found her way through the dim aisles, to the door of the church, where she stood the radiant picture of delight, gazing with childish interest upon the scene before her.
The solemn service over, Matilda with her stately train emerged from the Abbey and encircled by a princely retinue of knights and ladies, watched the swelling canvass, which under the pressure of a steady breeze, bore the gallant vessels into port. Impatient of delay, the royal children ran eagerly down the green slope to the water’s edge. “Now brothers mine,” said the fiery William, “the fair and goodly land of England, to him who in three stones’ cast shall twice strike yon fisherman’s buoy.” Seizing a pebble as he spoke, he was about to hurl it towards the destined mark, when Adela thoughtlessly grasped his arm. The stone dropped idly into the wave, sprinkling the short cloaks, and embroidered tunics of the little group. A derisive laugh followed this exploit, and Adela, familiar with the effects of William’s anger, fled from his uplifted hand to the protecting care of Richard, who, sheltering her with his arm, exclaimed, “Robert, imagine yon buoy a Saxon Earl, and try your prowess upon him. I resign all claim to the conquered realm.”