ween thee and us in a plain field of
battle."

And the missive was sanctioned by the signature and seal of the Soldan.

Richard surveyed the Nubian in silence as he stood before him, his looks
bent upon the ground, his arms folded on his bosom, with the appearance
of a black marble statue of the most exquisite workmanship, waiting
life from the touch of a Prometheus. The King of England, who, as it was
emphatically said of his successor Henry the Eighth, loved to look upon
A MAN, was well pleased with the thews, sinews, and symmetry of him whom
he now surveyed, and questioned him in the lingua franca, "Art thou a
pagan?"

The slave shook his head, and raising his finger to his brow, crossed
himself in token of his Christianity, then resumed his posture of
motionless humility.

"A Nubian Christian, doubtless," said Richard, "and mutilated of the
organ of speech by these heathen dogs?"

The mute again slowly shook his head, in token of negative, pointed with
his forefinger to Heaven, and then laid it upon his own lips.

"I understand thee," said Richard; "thou dost suffer under the
infliction of God, not by the cruelty of man. Canst thou clean an armour
and belt, and buckle it in time of need?"

The mute nodded, and stepping towards the coat of mail, which hung with
the shield and helmet of the chivalrous monarch upon the pillar of the
tent, he handled it with such nicety of address as sufficiently to show
that he fully understood the business of an armour-bearer.

"Thou art an apt, and wilt doubtless be a useful knave. Thou shalt wait
in my chamber, and on my person," said the King, "to show how much I
value the gift of the royal Soldan. If thou hast no tongue, it follows
thou canst carry no tales, neither provoke me to be sudden by any unfit
reply."

The Nubian again prostrated himself till his brow touched the earth,
then stood erect, at some paces distant, as waiting for his new master's
commands.

"Nay, thou shalt commence thy office presently," said Richard, "for I
see a speck of rust darkening on that shield; and when I shake it in
the face of Saladin, it should be bright and unsullied as the Soldan's
honour and mine own."

A horn was winded without, and presently Sir Henry Neville entered
with a packet of dispatches. "From England, my lord," he said, as he
delivered it.

"From England--our own England!" repeated Richard, in a tone of
melancholy enthusiasm. "Alas! they little think how hard their So