is a historical novel published in 1825. Set during the Third Crusade, it follows Sir Kenneth, a Scottish knight who encounters a mysterious Saracen emir on the road to a hermit's cave. As Richard the Lionheart lies ill and tensions flare among Christian lead ers, Kenneth becomes entangled in court intrigue, assassination plots, and stolen banners. With his identity concealed and honor at stake, he must navigate the complex relationship between Richard and the legendary Sul tan Saladin while pursuing his forbidden love for Lady Edith. The burning sun of Syria had not yet attained its highest point in the hori zon, whenaknightoftheRedCross, whohadlefthisdistantnorthernhome andjoinedthehostoftheCrusadersinPalestine, waspacingslowlyalongthe sandy deserts which lie in the vicinity of the Dead Sea, or, as it is called, the Lake Asphaltites, where the waves of the Jordan pour themselves into an inland sea, from which there is no discharge of waters. Thewarlike pilgrim had toiled among cliffs and precipices during the earlier part of the morning. More lately, issuing from those rocky and dangerous defiles, he had entered upon that great plain, where the accursed cities pro voked, in ancient days, the direct and dreadful vengeance of the Omnipo tent. The toil, the thirst, the dangers of the way, were forgotten, as the traveller recalled the fearful catastrophe which had converted into an arid and dismal wilderness the fair and fertile valley of Siddim, Crossing himself, as he viewed the dark mass of rolling waters, in colour as in duality unlike those of any other lake, the traveller shuddered as he re membered thatbeneath these sluggish waves lay the once proud cities of the plain, whose grave was dug by the thunder of the heavens, or the eruption of subterraneous fire, and whose remains were hid, even by that sea which holds no living fish in its bosom, bears no skiff on its surface, and, as if its own dreadfulbedwere theonly fit receptacle for its sullen waters, sendsnot, like otherlakes, atributetotheocean. Thewholelandaround, asinthedays of Moses, was"brimstoneandsalt; it is notsown, norbeareth, noranygrass groweth thereon." The land as well as the lake might be termed dead, as producing nothing having resemblance to vegetation, and even the very air was entirely devoid of its ordinary winged inhabitants, deterred probably by the odour of bitumen and sulphur which the burning sun exhaled from the waters of the lake in steaming clouds, frequently assuming the appear ance of waterspouts. Masses of the slimy and sulphureous substance called naphtha, whichfloatedidlyonthesluggishandsullenwaves, suppliedthose rolling clouds with new vapours, and afforded awful testimony to the truth of the Mosaic history
