The Champion and the false knight met; but the latter, by the arts of a wicked enchanter, had come so prepared by talismans for the fight, that all the skill and courage of Saint Denis could not overthrow him.
Again and again the aged Champion charged with all the agility and courage of a young man, and few would have supposed that he who sat within that iron mask, and wielded that heavy lance, had seen near eighty winters pa.s.s over his h.o.a.ry head. Once more he charged--his lance was shivered, and he was borne helpless to the ground.
Then were the evil designs of his fell enemy victorious. He was condemned to death. No rescue came, and he was led, yet habited in his armour, to the block. With a courageous look he lay down his head; but scarcely had the axe of the cruel executioner fallen upon it, than a fearful tempest burst forth. The headsman, the recreant knight, and all who had a.s.sisted willingly at the execution, were struck to the ground, becoming black ma.s.ses of cinder, by a flash of fearful lightning; and then the people learned and acknowledged that right and justice were on the Champion"s side.
Monuments were built and churches erected to his memory, and he was ever after reverenced as the Patron Saint of France and of all Frenchmen.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE DEATH OF SAINT JAMES.
Saint James, as long as his arm could wield a lance, continued his heroic combats with pagans and infidels of all sorts, magicians and necromancers, giants and ogres, wild beasts and evil spirits of every kind, sort, and description; but he, at length, too, finding his strength departing, and his hair growing grey, resolved to return home.
One day, however, as he was about to put on his armour, to ride forth as usual, he discovered that he could scarcely lift it.
"The time has come, my faithful Pedrillo, when no longer as a steel-clad knight, but as a humble pilgrim, I must wander through the world," he remarked, sitting down again on the couch from which he had risen. "Go forth, my faithful Squire, and purchase me a palmer"s habit, a hat of grey colour, and a broad scallop sh.e.l.l. Never more will I put on yonder coat of steel. I should but disgrace the name I have so long borne as one of the bravest knights of Christendom."
[Well would it be if other generals and admirals would take a hint from Saint James, and, following his example, would retire, when their powers are failing them, from public life.]
With a sigh the faithful Pedrillo went forth, and procured, as he was directed, a palmer"s habit for his master, and one for himself. Their armour being packed up and carried on their war-steeds, they now, as pilgrims, journeyed homewards; but all who met them knew full well what they had been, and even midnight robbers and outlaws respected them, and allowed them to pa.s.s unmolested.
Thus travelling on, they reached at length the wide plains of sunny Spain. There Saint James resolved to build a chapel, and to devote himself to its service. He erected also a hermitage hard by, where he and his faithful Pedrillo, who would not quit him, took up their abode as hermits. Then the peasantry from far and near came to visit them.
Much good advice Saint James could give them, and many things he taught them, while numberless were the strange stories he could tell of the wonderful things he had seen and done in foreign lands.
In time, his chapel, from the gifts brought to it, became one of the richest in the land; and this so excited the envy and anger of the monks of a neighbouring convent, that they conspired together to accuse him of necromancy and other terrible crimes.
Saint James boldly refuted the accusations, and offered, once more, to try his lance against any friar among them who was man enough to put on armour and meet him in single combat; but they all declined the honour, though they did not the less hurl their invectives against him, and seek opportunities for his destruction.
At length, he and some of his more pious fellow-worshippers were caught one day inside their chapel. The doors were closed upon them, and the wicked monks, hiring a band of Pagan mercenaries, had them all shot to death by poisoned arrows. In spite of the pain they suffered, the Saint and his companions continued singing their hymns to the last, while a bright silvery light burst forth in the chapel--(so says the ancient chronicler)--which continued burning glorious as ever; and when, at length, the chapel was opened, the body of Saint James and the bodies of his companions were found to be perfectly embalmed. Then they were placed in marble tombs with silver lids; and, to the present day, Saint James, by all real Spaniards, is held in the highest esteem and reverence.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE DEATH OF SAINT ANTHONY.
About the same time that his brother knights ended their martial career, Saint Anthony, with his faithful follower, Niccolo, likewise, for the same reason, resolved to turn his face homewards. Rome was the city of his birth, and to Rome he went.
Rome was a Christian city, but there were still many Pagans in the neighbourhood, and many of the shrines had as yet scarcely been accommodated to the new faith, so that the pious Saint Anthony had considerable difficulty in distinguishing one from the other. This very much grieved his heart. Even when he went among the priests he could not always make out to which faith they belonged. They made him long harangues, and a.s.sured him that their great wish was to develop their ancient and time-honoured inst.i.tutions into whatever form was likely to prove most popular.
Saint Anthony, who was a simple-minded man, was sorely puzzled by all this; so, after vainly endeavouring to comprehend the state of things in the ancient capital of the world, he retired to a hermitage, where he lived for the remainder of his days; nor would he ever again enter Rome.
Thus, in the fragrant odour of sanct.i.ty, he died at a green old age.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
THE DEATH OF SAINT ANDREW.
Saint George and Saint Andrew were the last of all the Seven Champions who remained together, rivalling each other in gallant deeds of arms.
Where breathes the Scotchman who does not desire, when his life"s work seems almost done, to return once more to scent the air of his own free heathery hills, to climb their rocky heights, and to wander around their fertile vales? Strongly did the desire to turn homeward seize the heart of Scotland"s Champion. He, however, did not lay aside his spear and sword; but old as he was, still clad in his armour, bestriding his war-horse, and followed by the faithful Murdoch, he kept steadily travelling on, day by day, towards the north.
Thus should the true knight do. Life is a battle from the beginning to the end--as the brave Saint Andrew well knew; and never should the armour, the shield, or sword, be laid aside till death strikes the knell which summons the warrior from the world.
Many were the adventures he and the faithful Murdoch met with on their journey. More than one giant was slain, numbers of unhappy people released from slavery, and many districts cleared of wild beasts, before the aged Knight and his faithful Squire reached the fair sh.o.r.es of Scotia.
The fame of their deeds had gone before them, and all the n.o.bility of the realm, and a vast concourse of people, a.s.sembled to do them honour.
It was a proud day for the aged Saint Andrew, when, clothed in his well-worn suit of armour, with Murdoch McAlpine of that ilk carrying his spear by his side, he rode through the streets of auld Reekie, with the shouts of the delighted populace sounding in his ears and singing his praises.
"Long live Saint Andrew! Long live Saint Andrew! Wherever the Scottish name is known there will we Scotchmen boast of our own Saint Andrew--of the gallant deeds he has done--of the name and of the fame he has won!"
Such were the cries which from far and near saluted his ears.
A grand tournament was also given in Saint Andrew"s honour, at which the aged Knight sat as umpire, though he wisely refrained from running a tilt, much as his heart tempted him to put on armour for the occasion.
Soon after this, being a.s.sured that feats of arms were no longer suited to him, he resolved to instruct his countrymen in certain important branches of knowledge which he had acquired in his foreign travels. To prepare himself for this new work he retired to a hermitage he had built high up on the side of a mountain. Thither, however, in a short time, resorted to him all the youths of aspiring minds who desired to acquire information, and to receive instruction from the sage. Thus, in process of time, the rude hut became a spot celebrated for learning and piety.
There, happily and usefully employed, the old warrior spent many years of his declining life.
But, alas! what virtue, what piety, can enable a man to escape from the snares of enemies and detractors? Accused of witchcraft, and other malpractices, the aged Saint was brought before some stern judges, who forthwith condemned him to death. Scarcely, however, had his head been cut off than his innocence was discovered, and a church was raised to his memory; and he has ever since been held in honourable recollection by all Scotchmen as the Champion of whom his country should be proud--a knight _sans peur et sans reproche_.
Such, however, is the way of the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
THE DEATH OF SAINT GEORGE.
The last Champion who appears in this wondrous, strange, and eventful history, is the great Saint George.
Towards the fair land of his birth, right Merrie England, he, too, when he found age creeping on him, resolved to turn his steps. Still lance in hand, and clad in steel, his brave lion heart yet undaunted, with the faithful De Fistycuff by his side, he at length homeward set his eyes.
His faithful chronicler relates numberless adventures he met with, scarcely less marvellous than those he encountered in his youth. Many a hard blow he got, which he still was able to return with interest, ably seconded by De Fistycuff, though, it must be confessed, his Squire had grown somewhat obese and unwieldy.
At length, the chalky cliffs of Britain, which for twice twelve years the n.o.ble Champion had never seen, came in sight. Joyful to him was the prospect; more joyful still the towns and villages, the pleasant aspect of the fields, and the green waving woods, as he travelled on towards Coventry. There, with warm greetings, the inhabitants of high and low degree received him.
Sadness, however, he saw on the countenances of many; and this was owing, as the veracious chronicler, from whose erudite work this history is drawn, informs us, to "a doleful report--how, upon Dunmore Heath, there raged up and down an infectious dragon, that so annoyed the country that the inhabitants thereabouts could not pa.s.s by without great danger; how that fifteen knights of the kingdom had already lost their lives in adventuring to suppress the same."
Saint George no sooner heard thereof, and what wrongs his country received by this infectious dragon, than he purposed to put the adventure to trial, and either to free the land from so great a danger, or to finish his days in the attempt. So, taking leave of all present, he rode forward with as n.o.ble a spirit as he did in Africa, when he combated the mighty green dragon.
So, coming to the middle of the plain, he there saw his dreadful enemy, crouching on the ground in a deep cave. The monster, by a strange instinct knowing that his death drew nigh, made such a hideous yelling, that it seemed as if the sky was bursting with thunder, and the earth rocking with an earthquake. Then, bounding forth from his den, and espying the aged Champion, he ran with a fury so great against him as if he would devour both knight and steed, armour and all, in a moment. But the brave Saint George, knowing well how to deal with dragons, and all such-like monsters, quickly wheeled his horse out of his way, and with such force did the monster rush on that he drove his sting full three feet into the ground. Returning again, however, with furious rage, he made at the Knight, and would have carried both him and his charger to the ground, but that Saint George, thrusting his spear at his throat, the monster, to avoid it, threw himself back, and fell happily over, with his back on the turf and his feet in the air, wriggling about all the time his long forked tail. Whereat the n.o.ble Champion taking advantage, leaped from his horse, and, throwing down his sword, seized him in his arms before he could rise, and pressed his huge body so tightly in his arms, and held him there, that he squeezed the very life out of him; but alas! the dragon"s sting annoyed the good Knight in such sort, that the dragon being no sooner slain and weltering in his venomous gore, than Saint George likewise took his death"s wound by the deep strokes of the dragon"s sting, which he received in divers parts of his body, and bled in such abundance that his strength began to enfeeble and grow weak: yet, retaining his true n.o.bleness of mind, he valiantly returned victor to the city of Coventry, where all the inhabitants stood without the gates to receive him in great royalty, and to give him the honour that belonged to so worthy a conqueror.
No sooner, alas! had the brave old Knight arrived before the city, and presented the people with the head of the dragon which had so long annoyed the country, which was borne before him by the trusty old De Fistycuff, than, what with the abundance of blood that issued from his deep wounds, and the long bleeding without stopping of the same, he sunk back into the arms of his faithful Squire, and, without a sigh, he yielded up his breath. Great was the moan that was made for him throughout the country, and all in the land, from the King to the shepherd, mourned him for the s.p.a.ce of a month. The King also, in remembrance of him, ordained for ever after to be kept a solemn procession by all the princes and chief n.o.bility of the country upon the twenty-third day of April, naming it Saint George"s Day; on which day the brave old Knight was most solemnly interred in the city where he was born. The King likewise decreed, by the consent of the whole kingdom, that the patron of the land should be named Saint George our Christian Champion, in that he had fought so many battles to the honour of Christendom.
Thus ends the ancient, authentic, and most credible chronicle from which I have quoted.