CHAPTER V.

THE DETERMINATION.

After the battle of Evesham, in which Edward entirely overthrew the party of the rebel barons, and re-established Henry's throne, Eleanora resided alternately in the palace of Savoy and at Windsor castle. The care of her three beautiful children occupied much of her attention, and in their nurture the streams of her affection deepened and widened, until they embraced all who came within the sphere of her influence. The now charming, but still volatile, Eva occasioned her infinite anxiety.

Since the day when Sir Francis had received her from the tall knight, at the ford of the Exe, he had held her by the two-fold cord of obligation and the possession of a secret; and from the first moment he discovered that she was sensitive upon the subject, he had not ceased to use his power to his own advantage. She was thus obliged to treat him with a favor which he ill deserved; yet such was the natural transparency of her character, that her real sentiments so often betrayed themselves, as to keep him in a constant state of irritation.

Sir Henry de Courtenay, whose sincere and ardent nature gave him little taste for mysteries, could not brook the inconsistencies that constantly presented themselves in her manner, and determining that his hand should never be bestowed where there was not the basis of confidence, withdrew himself from the sphere of her attractions. Eva grieved at his departure, but it was in vain that the princess represented, that the readiest escape from her difficulties was a courageous and candid confession of the truth.

Eva "did not care if he could be piqued by such trifles, as her smiling upon Sir Francis, when she heartily wished him among the Turks, he might e'en seek his fortune elsewhere. And for the matter of that, who could tell that it was desirable for the heiress of Strongbow to marry a simple knight." But these heroics usually ended in violent fits of weeping, and profound regrets that she had ever forfeited the confidence of De Courtenay.

Meanwhile, Edward began to feel the languor of inglorious ease, and as his dreams of ambition returned upon him, his thoughts reverted again and again to the unsolved problem that had exercised the political mathematicians of Europe for nearly two centuries. Could a permanent christian kingdom be founded in Palestine? All the blood which the French had shed, and all the wise counsel that Louis lavished in the Seventh Crusade, had failed to erect the necessary defence, or compose the disorders that oppressed the Syrian Christians. Nor were the Mussulman lords of Syria in much better condition. The noble dynasty of Saphadin had fallen a prey to the ruthless Mamelukes, and a blood-stained revolution in Egypt had placed the fierce Almalek Bibers on the throne. An excuse was not wanting for the invasion of Palestine, and the holy places were again bathed in the blood of their gallant defenders. The military orders were nearly annihilated, and the country was ravaged with fire and sword, almost to the very walls of Acre.

About this time an event, no ways connected with the East, turned Edward's attention to the adoption of the cross. He had challenged Sir Francis to a game of chess. In the midst of the play, from an impulse unaccountable to himself, he rose and sauntered towards the embroidery frame, to relate to Eva his adventure with the page whose ingenuity had once saved his life. Sir Francis, curious to enjoy her artful evasions, followed him; and a moment after, the centre stone of the groined ceiling fell with a terrible crash on the very spot where they had been sitting.

This almost miraculous preservation induced the prince to believe that he was destined to perform some great service for God. It recalled to his mind the benizon of our Lady at Walsingham, and, accompanied by Eleanora and a goodly train, he set off the following day to offer on her shrine at Norfolk an altar-cloth of gold brocade, and to crave her protection upon the expedition that he now seriously meditated.

"Eva," said the princess, very gravely, when they sat one day alone, "thou knowest my lord contemplates a pilgrimage."

"The saints preserve us!" said Eva. "Are there not holy places enough in England, but my lord must risk his life upon the sea, and encounter the black Infidels whose very presence is a terror?"

"'Tis not alone to visit the holy places," replied Eleanora, "though that were a work well worthy knightly daring; but to redeem our christian brethren from the power of their foes, and to establish the kingdom of Christ, in the land where He died for his people."

"And have not the holiest men and the bravest warriors in Europe, from Peter the Hermit to Fulk of Neuilly, and from Godfrey of Boulogne to the good St. Louis, all attempted it and failed? My lord, I warrant me, has been reading the tales of the romancers, or been deceived by the cunning manifestos of the pope," returned Eva.

"Eva, dear one, when shall I teach thee to treat with respect those in authority."

"I know that I am wrong," said Eva, "but why does not his Holiness take the cross himself, if he considers it such a pious work?"

"And if the Sovereign Pontiff be one of those who say and do not, the Scriptures still require us to obey those who sit in Moses' seat," replied the queen.

"Thy goodness reproveth me beyond thy words. I would that I could be always truthful and pure as thou," said Eva.

"Nay," returned the queen, "I do but repeat that which the confessor this morning told me."

"Forgive my irreverent prating," replied the maiden, "but it seemeth strange to me that one, who lacks the grace of christian charity himself, should dictate the devotions of my lady who is love itself."

"Ah! partial one," returned the princess, "hadst thou lived in Beziers, St. Dominick would have had thy head for thy heresy. But seriously, my Eva, thy praises humble me, for methinks had my life really exhibited those graces for which thy partial fondness gives me credit, I might ere this have taught thy restless spirit the composure which trust in God always gives."

Alarmed by the grave tone of her mistress, and anxious to conceal the emotions that welled up in her heart, Eva replied, with assumed gaiety, "Nay, what canst thou expect from a sea-sprite? Surely I must rise and fall like my native element."

"Ah! darling, this is that which hath so often forced home upon me the thought I would not willingly apply to thee, 'Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel.' And this it is makes me solicitous to gain thy candid ear while I unfold my husband's plans." Tears rolled over the fair girl's cheeks, but she remained perfectly silent. "Sir Warrenne Bassingbourn, whose noble heart thou knowest well, hath demanded thee of Edward, being pleased to say that thy fair hand would be sufficient guerdon for his gallant conduct in the wars. My royal father will give thee fitting dowry, and I would see my sweet friend well bestowed with some worthy protector before I embark upon that voyage from which I may never return."

"Thou embark for Palestine!" exclaimed Eva, forgetting her own brilliant prospects in the contemplation of her lady's purpose. "Bethink thee, my most honored mistress, of all the perils that beset thy course."

"I have counted them over, one by one," replied the princess, calmly.

"Thou hast thought of the dangers of the sea, perhaps, but rememberest thou the dreadful pestilence?--the horrors that Queen Margaret told?--how the leeches cut away the gums and cheeks of the sufferers, that they might swallow a drop of water to ease their torments?"

"I remember all--I have considered well," returned the princess. "And this also do I know, that nothing ought to part those whom God hath joined; and the way to heaven is as near, if not nearer, from Syria as from England, or my native Spain."

"Then I go with thee," said Eva, throwing herself at the feet of Eleanora, and pressing her lips upon her hand, "for if God hath not joined me to thee, he hath left me alone in the world. Thou hast been to me more than Naomi, and I shall not fail to thee in the duty of Ruth. Where thou goest I will go, where thou diest I will die, and there will I be buried. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. The poor, lone Eva, whose mother lieth in the deep, deep sea, and whose father is perchance a wanderer or an outlaw, shall no more strive to veil the sadness of her orphan heart by the false smiles and assumed gaiety that grieve her truest, only friend. Henceforth I will learn the lesson thou hast, with such gentle patience and sweet example, ever strove to teach me."

Eleanora mingled her tears with those of the impassioned maiden, and, anxious to end the painful scene, said, "Thou shalt go with me, love, to danger, and perhaps to death, since such is thine election; but what answer shall Edward return to Sir Warrenne Bassingbourn?"

"Let my lord assure Sir Warrenne," said she, rising proudly, "that Eva de la Mer is not insensible of the honor he intends, but that she will never add the shamrock to a knight's escutcheon, till she knows by what title she claims the emblem."