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diff --git a/14813-h/14813-h.htm b/14813-h/14813-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cabf861 --- /dev/null +++ b/14813-h/14813-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10381 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life And Death, by +Maurice Hewlett.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14813 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<img src="images/001.png" width="15%" alt="" title="" /> +<br /> +<br /></div> +<div> +<h2>THE LIFE AND DEATH</h2> +<h3>OF</h3> +<h1>RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY</h1> +<br /> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h3>MAURICE HEWLETT</h3> +<h5>AUTHOR OF "THE FOREST LOVERS," "LITTLE NOVELS OF ITALY," +ETC.</h5> +</div> +<div class='center'>Sì che a bene sperar mi era +cagione<br /> +Di quella fera alla gaietta pelle.<br /> +<i>Inf.</i> i. 41.<br /> +<br /> +NEW YORK<br /> +THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br /> +LONDON; MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.<br /> +1901<br /> +<br /> +Set up and electrotyped October, 1900. Reprinted November,<br /> +December, twice, 1900; January, February, twice, 1901<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Norwood Press<br /> +J.B. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith<br /> +Norwood Mass. U.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +TO<br /> +HIS FRIEND<br /> +EDMUND GOSSE<br /> +(ALWAYS BENEVOLENT TO HIS INVENTION)<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +THIS CHRONICLE OF<br /> +ANJOU AND A NOBLE LADY<br /> +IS DEDICATED<br /> +BY<br /> +M.H.</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#BOOK_I">BOOK I—THE BOOK OF +YEA</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#EXORDIUM">EXORDIUM</a></td> +<td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Abbot Milo <i>urbi el orbi</i>, concerning +the Nature of the Leopard</td> +<td align='right'>3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of Count Richard, and the Fires by Night</td> +<td align='right'>5</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How the Fair Jehane bestowed herself</td> +<td align='right'>18</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>In what Harbour they found the Old Lion</td> +<td align='right'>29</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How Jehane stroked what Alois had made +Fierce</td> +<td align='right'>41</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How Bertran de Born and Count Richard strove in +a <i>Tenzon</i></td> +<td align='right'>56</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Fruits of the Tenzon: the Back of Saint-Pol, and +the Front of Montferrat</td> +<td align='right'>69</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of the Crackling of Thorns under Pots</td> +<td align='right'>84</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How they held Richard off from his Father's +Throat</td> +<td align='right'>93</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Wild Work in the Church of Gisors</td> +<td align='right'>102</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Night-work by the Dark Tower</td> +<td align='right'>111</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of Prophecy; and Jehane in the Perilous Bed</td> +<td align='right'>123</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How they bayed the Old Lion</td> +<td align='right'>134</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How they met at Fontevrault</td> +<td align='right'>145</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of what King Richard said to the Bowing Rood; +and what Jehane to King Richard</td> +<td align='right'>156</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Last <i>Tenzon</i> of Bertran de Born</td> +<td align='right'>168</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Conversation in England of Jehane the Fair</td> +<td align='right'>179</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Frozen Heart and Red Heart: Cahors</td> +<td align='right'>193</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#BOOK_II">BOOK II—THE BOOK OF +NAY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter called Mate-Grifon</td> +<td align='right'>209</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of what Jehane looked for, and what +Berengère had</td> +<td align='right'>220</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Who Fought at Acre</td> +<td align='right'>235</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Concerning the Tower of Flies, Saint-Pol, and +the Marquess of Montferrat</td> +<td align='right'>248</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter of Forbidding: how De Gurdun looked, +and King Richard hid his Face</td> +<td align='right'>262</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter called Clytemnestra</td> +<td align='right'>282</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter of the Sacrifice on Lebanon; also +called Cassandra</td> +<td align='right'>293</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of the Going-up and Going-down of the +Marquess</td> +<td align='right'>302</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How King Richard reaped what Jehane had sowed, +and the Soldan was Gleaner</td> +<td align='right'>311</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter called Bonds</td> +<td align='right'>327</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter called <i>A Latere</i></td> +<td align='right'>338</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIIb">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter of Strife in the Dark</td> +<td align='right'>350</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIIIb">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Of the Love of Women</td> +<td align='right'>362</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIVb">CHAPTER XIV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>How the Leopard was loosed</td> +<td align='right'>369</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVb">CHAPTER XV</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>Oeconomic Reflections of the Old Man of +Musse</td> +<td align='right'>380</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIb">CHAPTER XVI</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Chapter called Chaluz</td> +<td align='right'>386</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIIb">CHAPTER XVII</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'>The Keening</td> +<td align='right'>396</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align='center'><a href="#EPILOGUE_OF_THE_ABBOT_MILO">EPILOGUE +OF THE ABBOT MILO</a></td> +<td align='right'>408</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<h1><a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a>BOOK I</h1> +<h2>THE BOOK OF YEA</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EXORDIUM" id="EXORDIUM"></a>EXORDIUM</h2> +<h3>THE ABBOT MILO <i>URBI ET ORBI</i>, CONCERNING THE NATURE OF +THE LEOPARD</h3> +<p>I like this good man's account of leopards, and find it more +pertinent to my matter than you might think. Milo was a Carthusian +monk, abbot of the cloister of Saint Mary-of-the-Pine by Poictiers; +it was his distinction to be the life-long friend of a man whose +friendships were few: certainly it may be said of him that he knew +as much of leopards as any one of his time and nation, and that his +knowledge was better grounded.</p> +<p>'Your leopard,' he writes, 'is alleged in the books to be +offspring of the Lioness and the Pard; and his name, if the +Realists have any truth on their side, establishes the fact. But I +think he should be called Leolupé, which is to say, got by +lion out of bitch-wolf, since two essences burn in him as well as +two sorts. This is the nature of the leopard: it is a spotted +beast, having two souls, a bright soul and a dark soul. It is black +and golden, slim and strong, cat and dog. Hunger drives a dog to +hunt, so the leopard; passion the cat, so the leopard. A cat is +sufficient unto himself, and a leopard is so; but a dog hangs on a +man's nod, and a leopard can so be beguiled. A leopard is sleek as +a cat and pleased by stroking; like a cat he will scratch his +friend on occasion. Yet again, he has a dog's intrepidity, knows no +fear, is single-purposed, not to be called off, longanimous. But +the cat in him makes him wary, tempts him to treacherous dealing, +keeps him apart from counsels, advises him to keep his own. So the +leopard is a lonely beast.' This is interesting, and may be true. +But mark him as he goes on.</p> +<p>'I knew the man, my dear master and a great king, who brought +the leopards into the shield of England, more proper to do it than +his father, being more the thing he signified. Of him, therefore, +torn by two natures, cast in two moulds, sport of two fates; the +hymned and reviled, the loved and loathed, spendthrift and a miser, +king and a beggar, the bond and the free, god and man; of King +Richard Yea-and-Nay, so made, so called, and by that unmade, I thus +prepare my account.'</p> +<p>So far the abbot with much learning and no little verbosity +casts his net. He has the weakness of his age, you observe, and +must begin at the beginning; but this is not our custom. Something +of Time is behind us; we are conscious of a world replete, and may +assume that we have digested part of it. Milo, indeed, like all +candid chroniclers, has his value. He is excellent upon himself, a +good relish with your meal. However, as we are concerned with King +Richard, you shall dip into his bag for refreshment, but must leave +the victualling to me.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>OF COUNT RICHARD, AND THE FIRES BY NIGHT</h3> +<p>I choose to record how Richard Count of Poictou rode all through +one smouldering night to see Jehane Saint-Pol a last time. It had +so been named by the lady; but he rode in his hottest mood of Nay +to that, yet careless of first or last so he could see her again. +Nominally to remit his master's sins, though actually (as he +thought) to pay for his own, the Abbot Milo bore him company, if +company you can call it which left the good man, in pitchy dark, +some hundred yards behind. The way, which was long, led over Saint +Andrew's Plain, the bleakest stretch of the Norman march; the pace, +being Richard's, was furious, a pounding gallop; the prize, +Richard's again, showed fitfully and afar, a twinkling point of +light. Count Richard knew it for Jehane's torch, and saw no other +spark; but Milo, faintly curious on the lady's account, was more +concerned with the throbbing glow which now and again shuddered in +the northern sky. Nature had no lamps that night, and made no sign +by cry of night-bird or rustle of scared beast: there was no wind, +no rain, no dew; she offered nothing but heat, dark, and dense +oppression. Topping the ridge of sand, where was the Fosse des +Noyées, place of shameful death, the solitary torch showed a +steady beam; and there also, ahead, could be seen on the northern +horizon that rim of throbbing light.</p> +<p>'God pity the poor!' said Count Richard, and scourged +forward.</p> +<p>'God pity me!' said gasping Milo; 'I believe my stomach is in my +head.' So at last they crossed the pebbly ford and found the pines, +then cantered up the path of light which streamed from the Dark +Tower. As core of this they saw the lady stand with a torch above +her head; when they drew rein she did not move. Her face, +moon-shaped, was as pale as a moon; her loose hair, catching light, +framed it with gold. She was all white against the dark, seemed to +loom in it taller than she was or could have been. She was Jehane +Saint-Pol, Jehane 'of the Fair Girdle,' so called by her lovers and +friends, to whom for a matter of two years this hot-coloured, +tallest, and coldest of the Angevins had been light of the +world.</p> +<p>The check upon their greeting was the most curious part of a +curious business, that one should have travelled and the other +watched so long, and neither urge the end of desire. The Count sat +still upon his horse, so for duty's sake did the aching abbot; the +girl stood still in the entry-way, holding up her dripping torch. +Then, 'Child, child,' cried the Count, 'how is it with thee?' His +voice trembled, and so did he.</p> +<p>She looked at him, slow to answer, though the hand upon her +bosom swayed up and down.</p> +<p>'Do you see the fires?' she said. 'They have been there six +nights.' He was watching them then through the pine-woods, how they +shot into the sky great ribbons of light, flickered, fainted out, +again glowed steadily as if gathering volume, again leaped, again +died, ebbing and flowing like a tide of fire.</p> +<p>'The King will be at Louviers,' said Richard. He gave a short +laugh. 'Well, he shall light us to bed. Heart of a man, I am sick +of all this. Let me in.'</p> +<p>She stood aside, and he rode boldly into the tower, stooping as +he passed her to touch her cheek. She looked up quickly, then let +in the abbot, who, with much ceremony, came bowing, his horse led +by the bridle. She shut the door behind them and drove home the +great bolts. Servants came tumbling out to take the horses and do +their duty; Count Eustace, a brother of Jehane's, got up from the +hearth, where he had been asleep on a bearskin, rubbed his eyes, +gulped a yawn, knelt, and was kissed by Richard. Jehane stood +apart, mistress of herself as it seemed, but conscious, perhaps, +that she was being watched. So she was. In the bustle of salutation +the Abbot Milo found eyes to see what manner of sulky, beautiful +girl this was.</p> +<p>He watched shrewdly, and has described her for us with the +meticulous particularity of his time and temper. He runs over her +parts like a virtuoso. The iris of her eyes, for instance, was wet +grey, but ringed with black and shot with yellow, giving so the +effect of hot green; her mouth was of an extraordinary dark red +colour, very firm in texture, close-grained, 'like the darker sort +of strawberries,' says he. The upper lip had the sulky curve; she +looked discontented, and had reason to be, under such a scrutiny of +the microscope. Her hair was colour of raw silk, eyebrows set +rather high, face a thinnish oval, complexion like a pink rose's, +neck thinnish again, feet, hands, long and nervous, 'good working +members,' etc. etc. None of this helps very much; too detailed. But +he noticed how tall she was and how slim, save for a very beautiful +bosom, too full for Dian's (he tells us), whom else she resembled; +how she was straight as a birch-tree; how in walking it seemed as +if her skirts clung about her knees. There was an air of mingled +surprise and defiance about her; she was a silent girl. 'Fronted +like Juno,' he appears to cry, 'shaped like Hebe, and like Demeter +in stature; sullen with most, but with one most sweetly apt, she +looked watchful but was really timid, looked cold but was secretly +afire. I knew soon enough how her case stood, how hope and doubt +strove in her and choked her to silence. I guessed how within those +reticent members swift love ran like wine; but because of this +proud, brave mask of hers I was slow to understand her worth. God +help me, I thought her a thing of snow!'</p> +<p>He records her dress at this time, remarkable if becoming. It +was all white, and cut wedge-shaped in front, very deep; but an +undervest of crimson crossed the V in the midst and saved her +modesty, and his. Her hair, which was long, was plaited in two +plaits with seed-pearls, brought round her neck like a scarf and +the two ends joined between her breasts, thus defining a great +beauty of hers and making a gold collar to her gown. Round her +smooth throat was a little chain with a red jewel; on her head +another jewel (a carbuncle) set in a flower, with three heron's +plumes falling back from it. She had a broad belt of gold and +sapphire stones, and slippers of vair. 'Oh, a fine straight maid,' +says Milo in conclusion, 'golden and delicate, with strangely +shaded eyes. They knew her as Jehane of the Fair Girdle.'</p> +<p>The brother, Count Eustace as they called him (to distinguish +him from an elder brother, Eudo Count of Saint-Pol), was a blunt +copy of his sister, redder than she was, lighter in the hair, much +lighter in the eyes. He seemed an affectionate youth, and clung to +the great Count Richard like ivy to a tree. Richard gave him the +sort of scornful affection one has for a little dog, between +patting and slapping; but clearly wanted to be rid of him. No +reference was made to the journey, much was taken for granted; +Eustace talked of his hawks, Richard ate and drank, Jehane sat up +stiffly, looking into the fire; Milo watched her between his +mouthfuls. The moment supper was done, up jumps Richard and claps +hands on the two shoulders of young Eustace. 'To bed, to bed, my +falconer! It grows late,' cries he. Eustace pushed his chair back, +rose, kissed the Count's hand and his sister's forehead, saluted +Milo, and went out humming a tune. Milo withdrew, the servants +bowed themselves away. Richard stood up, a loose-limbed young +giant, and narrowed his eyes.</p> +<p>'Nest thee, nest thee, my bird,' he said low; and Jehane's lips +parted. Slowly she left her stool by the fire, but quickened as she +went; and at last ran tumbling into his arms.</p> +<p>His right hand embraced her, his left at her chin held her face +at discretion. Like a woman, she reproached him for what she dearly +loved.</p> +<p>'Lord, lord, how shall I serve the cup and platter if you hold +me so fast?'</p> +<p>'Thou art my cup, thou art my supper.'</p> +<p>'Thin fare, poor soul,' she said; but was glad of his +foolishness.</p> +<p>Later, they sat by the hearth, Jehane on Richard's knee, but +doubtfully his, being troubled by many things. He had no +retrospects nor afterthoughts; he tried to coax her into pliancy. +It was the fires in the north that distressed her. Richard made +light of them.</p> +<p>'Dear,' he said, 'the King my father is come up with a host to +drive the Count his son to bed. Now the Count his son is master of +a good bed, to which he will presently go; but it is not the bed of +the King his father. That, as you know, is of French make, neither +good Norman, nor good Angevin, nor seethed in the English mists. By +Saint Maclou and the astonishing works he did, I should be bad +Norman, and worse Angevin, and less English than I am, if I loved +the French.'</p> +<p>He tried to draw her in; but she, rather, strained away from +him, elbowed her knee, and rested her chin upon her hand. She +looked gravely down to the whitening logs, where the ashes were +gaining on the red.</p> +<p>'My lord loves not the French,' she said, 'but he loves honour. +He is the King's son, loving his father.'</p> +<p>'By my soul, I do not,' he assured her, with perfect truth, then +he caught her round the waist and turned her bodily to face him. +After he had kissed her well he began to speak more seriously.</p> +<p>'Jehane,' he said, 'I have thought all this stifling night upon +the heath, Homing to her I am seeking my best. My best? You are all +I have in the world. If honour is in my hand, do I not owe it to +you? Or shall a man use women like dogs, to play with them in idle +moods, toss them bones under the table, afterwards kick them out of +doors? Child, you know me better. What!' he cried out, with his +head very high, 'Shall a man not choose his own wife?'</p> +<p>'No,' said Jehane, ready for him; 'no, Richard, unless the +people shall choose their own king.'</p> +<p>'God chooses the king,' says Richard, 'or so we choose to +believe.'</p> +<p>'Then God must appoint the wife,' Jehane said, and tried to get +free. But this could not be allowed, as she knew.</p> +<p>She was gentle with him, reasoning. 'The King your father is an +old man, Richard. Old men love their way.'</p> +<p>'God knows, he is old, and passionate, and indifferent wicked,' +said Richard, and kissed Jehane. 'Look, my girl, there were four of +us: Henry, and me, and Geoffrey, and John, whom he sought to drive +in team by a sop to-day and a stick to-morrow. A good way, done by +a judging hand. What then? I will tell you how the team served the +teamster. Henry gave sop for sop, and it was found well. Might he +not give stick for stick? He thought so: God rest him, he is dead +of that. There was much simplicity in Henry. I got no sop at all. +Why should I have stick then? I saw no reason; but I took what +came. If I cried out, it is a more harmless vent than many. Let me +alone. Geoffrey, I think, was a villain. God help him if He can: he +is dead too. He took sop and gave stick: ungentle in Geoffrey, but +he paid for it. He was a cross-bred dog with much of the devil in +him; he bit himself and died barking. Last, there is John. I desire +to speak reasonably of John; but he is too snug, he gets all sop. +This is not fair. He should have some stick, that we may judge what +mettle he has. There, my Jehane, you have the four of us, a fretful +team; whereof one has rushed his hills and broken his heart; and +one, kicking his yoke-fellows, squealing, playing the jade, has +broken his back; and one, poor Richard, does collar-work and gets +whip; and one, young Master John, eases his neck and is cajoled +with, "So then, so then, boy!" Then comes pretty Jehane to the ear +of the collar-horse, whispering, "Good Richard, get thee to stall, +but not here. Stable thee snug with the King of France his sister." +'Hey!' laughed Richard, 'what a word for a chosen bride!' He +pinched her cheek and looked gaily at her, triumphant in his own +eloquence. He was most dangerous when that devil was awake, so she +dared not look at him back. Eagerly and low she replied.</p> +<p>'Yes, Richard, yes, yes, my king! The king must have the king's +sister, and Jehane go back to the byre. Eagles do not mate with +buzzards.' Hereupon he snatched her up altogether and hid her face +in his breast.</p> +<p>'Never, never, never!' he swore to the rafters. 'As God lives +and reigns, so live thou and so reign, queen of me, my Picardy +rose.'</p> +<p>She tried no more that night, fearing that his love so +keen-edged might make his will ride rough. The watch-fires at +Louviers trembled and streamed up in the north. There was no need +for candles in the Dark Tower.</p> +<p>They rose up early to a fair dawn. The cloud-wrack was blown +off, leaving the sky a lake of burnt yellow, pure, sweet, and cool. +Thus the world entered upon the summer of Saint Luke, to a +new-risen sun, to thin mists stealing off the moor, to wet flowers +hearted anew, to blue air, and hope left for those who would go +gleaning. While Eustace Saint-Pol was snoring abed and the Abbot +Milo at his <i>Sursum Corda</i>, Richard had Jehane by the hand. +'Come forth, my love; we have the broad day before us and an empty +kingdom to roam in. Come, my red rose, let me set you among the +flowers.' What could she do but harbour up her thoughts?</p> +<p>He took her afield, where flowers made the earth still a +singing-place, and gathered of these to deck her bosom and hair. Of +the harebells he made knots, the ground-colour of her eyes; but +autumn loves the yellow, so she was stuck with gold like a +princess. She sat enthroned by his command, this young girl in a +high place, with downcast eyes and a face all fire-colour, while he +worshipped her to his fancy. I believe he had no after-thought; but +she saw the dun smoke of the fires at Louviers, and knew they would +make the night shudder again. Yet her sweetness, patience, staid +courtesy, humility, never failed her; out of the deep wells of her +soul she drew them forth in a stream. Richard adored. 'Queen +Jehane, Queen Jehane!' he cried out, with his arms straightly round +her—'Was ever man in the world blest so high since God said, +"Behold thy mother"? And so art thou mother to me, O bride. Bride +and queen as thou shalt be.'</p> +<p>This was great invention. She put her hand upon his head. 'My +Richard, my Richard Yea-and-Nay,' she said, as if pitying his wild +heart. The nickname jarred.</p> +<p>'Never call me that,' he told her. 'Leave that to Bertran de +Born, a fool's word to the fool who made it.'</p> +<p>'If I could, if I could!' thought Jehane, and sighed. There were +tears in her eyes, also, as she remembered what generosity in him +must be frozen up, and what glory of her own. But she did not +falter in what she had to do, while he, too exalted to be pitied, +began to sing a Southern song—</p> +<p>Al' entrada del tems clair, eya!</p> +<p>When their hair commingled in their love, when they were close +together, there was little distinguishing between them; he was more +her pair than Eustace her blood-brother, in stature and shape, in +hue and tincture of gold. Jehane you know, but not Richard. Of him, +son of a king, heir of a king, if you wish some bodily sign, I will +say shortly that he was a very tall young man, high-coloured and +calm in the face, straight-nosed, blue-eyed, spare of flesh, lithe, +swift in movement. He was at once bold and sleek, eager and cold as +ice—an odd combination, but not more odd than the blend of +Norman dog and Angevin cat which had made him so. Furtive he was +not, yet seeming to crouch for a spring; not savage, yet primed for +savagery; not cruel, yet quick on the affront, and on the watch for +it. He was neither a rogue nor a madman; and yet he was as cunning +as the one and as heedless as the other, if that is a possible +thing. He was arrogant, but his smile veiled the fault; you saw it +best in a sleepy look he had. His blemishes were many, his +weaknesses two. He trusted to his own force too much, and despised +everybody else in the world. Not that he thought them knaves; he +was certain they were fools. And so most of them were, no doubt, +but not all. The first flush of him moved your admiration: great +height, great colour, the red and the yellow; his beard which ran +jutting to a point and gave his jaw the clubbed look of a big +cat's; his shut mouth, and cold considering eyes; the eager set of +his head, his soft, padding motions—a leopard, a hunting +leopard, quick to strike, but quick to change purpose. This, then, +was Richard Yea-and-Nay, whom all women loved, and very few men. +These require to be trusted before they love; and full trust +Richard gave to no man, because he could not believe him worth it. +Women are more generous givers, expecting not again.</p> +<p>Here was Jehane Saint-Pol, a girl of two-and-twenty to his +two-and-thirty, well born, well formed, greatly desired among her +peers, who, having let her soul be stolen, was prepared to cut it +out of herself for his sake who took it, and let it die. She was +the creature of his love, in and out by now the work of his hands. +God had given her a magnificent body, but Richard had made it glow. +God had made her soul a fair room; but his love had filled it with +light, decked it with flowers and such artful furniture. He, in +fact, as she very well knew, had given her the grace to deal +queenly with herself. She knew that she would have strength to deny +him, having learned the hardihood to give him her soul. Fate had +carried her too young into the arms of the most glorious prince in +the world. Her brother, Eudo the Count, built castles on that in +his head. Now she was to tumble them down. Her younger brother, +Eustace, loved this splendid Richard. Now she was to hurt him. What +was to become of herself? Mercy upon her, I believe she never +thought of that. His honour was her necessity: the watch-fires in +the north told her the hour was at hand. The old King was come up +with a host to drive his son to bed. Richard must go, and she woo +him out. Son of a king, heir of a king, he must go to the king his +father; and he knew he must go. Two days' maddening delight, two +nights' biting of nails, miserable entreaty from Jehane, grown +newly pinched and grey in the face, and he owned it.</p> +<p>He said to her the last night, 'When I saw you first, my Queen +of Snows, in the tribune at Vézelay, when the knights rode +by for the melée, the green light from your eyes shot me, +and wounded I cried out, "That maid or none!"'</p> +<p>She bowed her head; but he went on. 'When they throned you queen +of them all because you were so proud and still, and had such a +high untroubled head; and when your sleeve was in my helm, and my +heart in your lap, and men fallen to my spear were sent to kneel +before you—what caused your cheek to burn and your eyes to +shine so bright?'</p> +<p>She hid her face. 'Homage of the knights! The love of me!' he +cried; and then, 'Ah, Jehane of the Fair Girdle, when I took you +from the pastures of Gisors, when I taught you love and learned +from your young mouth what love might be, I was made man. But now +you ask me to become dog.' And he swore yet again he could never +leave her. But she smiled proudly, being in pain. 'Nay, my lord, +but the man in you is awake, and not to leave you. You shall go +because you are the king's son, and I shall pray for the new king.' +So she beat him, and had him weeping terribly, his face in her lap. +She wept no more, but dry-eyed kissed him, and dry-lipped went to +bed. 'He said Yea that time,' records the Abbot Milo, 'but I never +knew then what she paid for it. That was later.' He went next +morning, and she saw him go.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>HOW THE FAIR JEHANE BESTOWED HERSELF</h3> +<p>Betimes is best for an ugly business; your man of spirit will +always rush what he loathes but yet must do. Count Richard of +Poictou, having made up his mind and confessed himself overnight, +must leave with the first cock of the morning, yet must take the +sacrament. Before it was grey in the east he did so, fully armed in +mail, with his red surcoat of leopards upon him, his sword girt, +his spurs strapped on. Outside the chapel in the weeping mirk a +squire held his shield, another his helm, a groom walked his horse. +Milo the Abbot was celebrant, a snuffling boy served; the Count +knelt before the housel-cloth haloed by the light of two thin +candles. Hardly had the priest begun his <i>introibo</i> when +Jehane Saint-Pol, who had been awake all night, stole in with a +hood on her head, and holding herself very stiffly, knelt on the +floor. She joined her hands and stuck them up before her, so that +the tips of her fingers, pointing upwards as her thoughts would +fly, were nearly level with her chin. Thus frozen in prayer she +remained throughout the office; nor did she relax when at the +elevation of the Host Richard bowed himself to the earth. It seemed +as if she too, bearing between her hands her own heart, was lifting +it up for sacrifice and for worship.</p> +<p>The Count was communicated. He was a very religious man, who +would sooner have gone without his sword than his Saviour upon any +affairs. Jehane saw him fed without a twitch of the lips. She was +in a great mood, a rapt and pillared saint; but when mass was over +and his thanksgiving to make, she got up and hid herself away from +him in the shades. There she lurked darkling, and he, lunging out, +swept with his sword's point the very edge of her gown. She did not +hear him go, for he trod like a cat; but she felt him touch her +with the sword, and shuddered once or twice. He went out of the +courtyard at a gallop.</p> +<p>While the abbot was reciting his own thanksgiving Jehane came +out of her corner, minded to speak with him. So much he divined, +needing not the beckoning look she sent him from her guarded eyes. +He sat himself down by the altar of Saint Remy, and she knelt +beside him.</p> +<p>'Well, my daughter?' says Milo.</p> +<p>'I think it is well,' she took him up.</p> +<p>The Abbot Milo, a red-faced, watery-eyed old man, rheumy and +weathered well, then opened his mouth and spake such wisdom as he +knew. He held up his forefinger like a claw, and used it as if +describing signs and wonders in the air.</p> +<p>'Hearken, Madame Jehane,' he said. 'I say that you have done +well, and will maintain it. That great prince, whom I love like my +own son, is not for you, nor for another. No, no. He is married +already.'</p> +<p>He hoped to startle her, the old rhetorician; but he failed. +Jehane was too dreary.</p> +<p>'He is married, my daughter,' he repeated; 'and to whom? Why, to +himself. That man from the birth has been a lonely soul. He can +never wed, as you understand it. You think him your lover! Believe +me, he is not. He is his own lover. He is called. He has a destiny. +And what is that? you ask me.'</p> +<p>She did not, but rhetoric bade him suppose it. 'Salem is his +destiny; Salem is his bride, the elect lady in bonds. He will not +wed Madame Alois of France, nor you, nor any virgin in Christendom +until that spiritual wedlock is consummate. I should not love him +as I do if I did not believe it. For why? Shall I call my own son +apostate? He is signed with the Cross, a married man, by our +Saviour!'</p> +<p>He leaned back in his chair, peering down at her to see how she +took it. She took it stilly, and turned him a marble, storm-purged +face, a pair of eyes which seemed all black.</p> +<p>'What shall I do to be safe?' Her voice sounded worn.</p> +<p>'Safe, my child?' He wondered. 'Bless me, is not the Cross +safety?'</p> +<p>'Not with him, father.'</p> +<p>This was perfectly true, though tainted with scandal, he +thought. The abbot, who was trained to blink all such facts, had to +learn that this girl blinked none. True to his guidance, he +blinked.</p> +<p>'Go home to your brother, my daughter; go home to +Saint-Pol-la-Marche. At the worst, remember that there are always +two arks for a woman in flood-time, a convent and a bed.'</p> +<p>'I shall never choose a convent,' said Jehane.</p> +<p>'I think,' said the abbot, 'that you are perfectly wise.'</p> +<p>I suppose the alternative struck a sudden terror into her; for +the abbot abruptly records in his book that 'here her spirit seemed +to flit out of her, and she began to tremble very much, and in vain +to contend with tears. I had her all dissolved at my feet within a +few moments. She was very young, and seemed lost.'</p> +<p>'Come, come,' he said, 'you have shown yourself a brave girl +these two days. It is not every maid can sacrifice herself for a +Count of Poictou, the eldest son of a king. Come, come, let us have +no more of this.' He hoped, no doubt, to brace her by a roughness +which was far from his nature; and it is possible that he succeeded +in heading off a mutiny of the nerves. She was not violent under +her despair, but went on crying very miserably, saying, 'Oh, what +shall I do? what shall I do?'</p> +<p>'God knoweth,' says the abbot, 'this was a bad case; but I had a +good thought for it.' He began to speak of Richard, of what he had +done and what would live to do. 'They say that the strain of the +fiend is in that race, my dear,' he told her. 'They say that +Geoffrey Grey-Gown had intercourse with a demon. And certain it is +that in Richard, as in all his brothers, that stinging grain lives +in the blood. For testimony look at their cognisance of leopards, +and advise yourself, whether any house in Christendom ever took +that device but had known familiarly the devil in some shape? And +look again at the deeds of these princes. What turned the young +king to riot and death, and Geoffrey to rapine and death? What else +will turn John Sansterre to treachery and death, or our tall +Richard to violence and death? Nothing else, nothing else. But +before he dies you shall see him glorious—'</p> +<p>'He is glorious already,' said Jehane, wiping her eyes.</p> +<p>'Keep him so, then,' said the abbot testily, who did not love to +have his periods truncated.</p> +<p>'If I go back to Saint-Pol,' said Jehane, 'I shall fall in with +Gilles de Gurdun, who has sworn to have me.'</p> +<p>'Well,' replied the abbot, 'why should he not? Does he receive +the assurance of your brother the Count?'</p> +<p>Jehane shook her head. 'No, no. My brother wished me to be my +lord Richard's. But Gilles needs no assurance. He will buy my +marriage from the King of France. He is very sufficient.'</p> +<p>'Hath he substance? Hath he lands? Is he noble, then, +Jehane?'</p> +<p>'He hath knighthood, a Church fief—oh, enough!'</p> +<p>'God forgive me if I did amiss,' writes the abbot here; 'but +seeing her in a melting mood, dewy, soft, and adorable, I kissed +that beautiful person, and she left the Chapel of Saint Remy +somewhat comforted.'</p> +<p>Not only so, but the same day she left the Dark Tower with her +brother Count Eustace, and rode towards Gisors and +Saint-Pol-la-Marche. Nothing she could do could be shamefully done, +because of her silence, and the high head upon which she carried +it; yet the Count of Saint-Pol, when he heard her story, sitting +bulky in his chair (like a stalled red bull), did his best to put +shame upon her, that so he might cover his own bitterness. It was +Eustace, a generous ardent youth in those days, who saved her from +most of Eudo's wrath by drawing it upon himself.</p> +<p>The Count of Saint-Pol swore a great oath.</p> +<p>'By the teeth of God, Jehane,' he roared, 'I see how it is. He +hath made thee a piece of ruin, and now runs wasting +elsewhere.'</p> +<p>'You shall never say that of my sister, my lord,' cries Eustace, +very red in the face, 'nor yet of the greatest knight in the +world.'</p> +<p>'Why, you egg,' says the Count, 'what have you to do in this? +Tell me the rights of it before you put me in the wrong. Is my +house to be the sport of Anjou? Is that long son of pirates and the +devil to batten on our pastures, tread underfoot, bruise and +blacken, rout as he will, break hedge and away? By my father's +soul, Eustace, I shall see her righted.' He turned to the still +girl. 'You tell me that you sent him away? Where did you send him? +Where did he go?'</p> +<p>'He went to the King of England at Louviers, and to the camp,' +said Jehane. 'The King sent for him. I sent him not.'</p> +<p>'Who is there beside the King of England?'</p> +<p>'Madame Alois of France is there.'</p> +<p>The Count of Saint-Pol put his tongue in his cheek.</p> +<p>'Oho!' he said, 'Oho! That is how it stands? So she is to be +cuckoo, hey?' He sat square and intent for a moment or two, working +his mouth like a man who chews a straw. Then he slapped his big +hand on his knee, and rose up. 'If I cannot spike this wheel of +vice, trust me never. By my soul, a plot indeed. Oh, horrible, +horrible thief!' He turned gnashing upon his brother. 'Now, +Eustace, what do you say to your greatest knight in the world? And +what now of your sister, hey? Little fool, do you not catch the +measure of it now? Two honey years of Jehane Saint-Pol, gossamer +pledges of mouth and mouth, of stealing fingers, kiss and clasp; +but for the French King's daughter—pish! the thing of naught +they have made her—the sacrament of marriage, the treaty, the +dowry-fee. Oh, heaven and earth, Eustace, answer me if you +can.'</p> +<p>All three were moved in their several ways: the Count red and +blinking, Eustace red and trembling, Jehane white as a cloth, +trembling also, but very silent. The word was with the younger +man.</p> +<p>'I know nothing of all this, upon my word, my lord,' he said, +confused. 'I love Count Richard, I love my sister. There may have +been that which, had I loved but one, I had condemned in the other. +I know not, but'—he saw Jehane's marble face, and lifted his +hand up—'by my hope, I will never believe it. In love they +came together, my lord; in love, says Jehane, they have parted. I +have heard little of Madame Alois, but my thought is, that kings +and the sons of kings may marry kings' daughters, yet not in the +way of love.'</p> +<p>The Count fumed. 'You are a fool, I see, and therefore not to my +purpose. I must talk with men. Stay you here, Eustace, and watch +over her till I return. Let none get at her, on your dear life. +There are those who—sniffing rogues, climbers, boilers of +their pots—keep them out, Eustace, keep them out. As for +you'—he turned hectoring to the proud girl—'As for you, +mistress, keep the house. You are not in the market, you are spoilt +goods. You shall go where you should be. I am still lord of these +lands; there shall be no rebellion here. Keep the house, I say. I +return ere many days.' He stamped out of the hall; they heard him +next rating the grooms at the gate.</p> +<p>Saint-Pol was a great house, a noble house, no doubt of it. Its +counts drew no limits in the way of pedigree, but built themselves +a fair temple in that kind, with the Twelfth Apostle himself for +head of the corner. So far as estate went, seeing their country was +fruitful, compact, snugly bounded between France and Normandy +(owing fealty to the first), they might have been sovereign counts, +like the house of Blois, like that of Aquitaine, like that even of +Anjou, which, from nothing, had risen to be so high. More: by +marriage, by robbery on that great plan where it ceases to be +robbery and is called warfare, by treaty and nice use of the +balances, there was no reason why kingship should not have been +theirs, or in their blood. Kingship, even now, was not far off. +They called the Marquess of Montferrat cousin, and he (it was +understood) intended to be throned at Jerusalem. The Emperor +himself might call, and once (being in liquor) did call Count Eudo +of Saint-Pol 'cousin'; for the fact was so. You must understand +that in the Gaul of that day things were in this ticklish state, +that a man (as they say) was worth the scope of his sword: reiver +yesterday, warrior to-morrow; yesterday wearing a hemp collar, +to-day a count's belt, and to-morrow, may be, a king's crown. You +climbed in various ways, by the field, by the board, by the bed. A +handsome daughter was nearly worth a stout son. Count Eudo reckoned +himself stout enough, and reckoned Eustace was so; but the beauty +of Jehane, that stately maid who might uphold a cornice, that still +wonder of ivory and gold, was an emblement which he, the tenant, +meant to profit by; and so for an hour (two years by the clock) he +saw his profit fair. The infatuation of the girl for this man or +that man was nothing; but the infatuation of the great Count of +Poictou for her set Eudo's heart ablaze. God willing, Saint Maclou +assisting, he might live to call Jehane 'My Lady Queen.' He shut +his ears to report; there were those who called Richard a rake, and +others who called him 'Yea-and-Nay'; that was Bertran de Born's +name for him, and all Paris knew it. He shut his eyes to Richard's +galling unconcern with himself and his dignity. Dignity of +Saint-Pol! He would wait for his dignity. He shut his mind to +Jehane's blown fame, to the threatenings of his dreadful Norman +neighbour, Henry the old king, who had had an archbishop pole-axed +like a steer; he dared the anger of his suzerain, in whose hands +lay Jehane's marriage; a heady gambler, he staked the fortunes of +his house upon this clinging of a girl to a wild prince. And now to +tell himself that he deserved what he had got was but to feed his +rage. Again he swore by God's teeth that he would have his way; and +when he left his castle of Saint-Pol-la-Marche it was for +Paris.</p> +<p>The head of his house, under the Emperor Henry, was there, +Conrad of Montferrat, trying to negotiate the crown of Jerusalem. +There must be a conference before the house of Saint-Pol could be +let to fall. Surely the Marquess would never allow it! He must +spike the wheel. Was not Alois of France within the degrees? She +was sister to the French King: well, but what was Richard's mother? +She had been wife to Louis, wife to Alois' father. Was this +decency? What would the Pope say—an Italian? Was the Marquess +Conrad an Italian for nothing? Was 'our cousin' the Emperor of no +account, King of the Romans? The Pope Italian, the Marquess +Italian, the Emperor on his throne, and God in His heaven—eh, +eh! there should be a conference of these high powers. So, and with +such whirl of question and answer, did the Count of Saint-Pol beat +out to Paris.</p> +<p>But Jehane remained at Saint-Pol-la-Marche, praying much, going +little abroad, seeing few persons. Then came (since rumour is a +gadabout) Sir Gilles de Gurdun, as she knew he would, and knelt +before her, and kissed her hand. Gilles was a square-shouldered, +thick-set youth of the black Norman sort, ruddy, strong-jawed, +small-eyed, low in the brow, bullet-headed. He was no taller than +she, looked shorter, and had nothing to say. He had loved her since +the time when she was an overgrown girl of twelve years, and he a +squire about her father's house learning mannishness. The King of +England had dubbed him a knight, but she had made him a man. She +knew him to be a good one; as dull as a mud-flat, but honest, +wholesome, and of decent estate. In a moment, when he was come +again, she saw that he was a long lover who would treat her +well.</p> +<p>'God help me, and him also,' she thought; 'it may be that I +shall need him before long.'</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>IN WHAT HARBOUR THEY FOUND THE OLD LION</h3> +<p>At Evreux, across the heath, Count Richard found his company: +the Viscount Adhémar of Limoges (called for the present the +Good Viscount), the Count of Perigord, Sir Gaston of Béarn +(who really loved him), the Bishop of Castres, and the Monk of +Montauban (a singing-bird); some dozen of knights with their +esquires, pages, and men-at-arms. He waited two days there for +Abbot Milo to come up with last news of Jehane; then at the head of +sixty spears he rode fleetly over the marshes towards Louviers. +After his first, 'You are well met, my lords,' he had said very +little, showing a cold humour; after a colloquy with Milo, which he +had before he left his bed, he said nothing at all. Alone, as +became one of his race, he rode ahead of his force; not even the +chirping Monk (who remembered his brother Henry and often sighed +for him) cared to risk a shot from his strong eyes. They were like +blue stones, full of the cold glitter of their fire. It was at +times like this, when a man stands naked confronting his purpose, +that one saw the hag riding on the back of Anjou.</p> +<p>He was not thinking of it now, but the truth is that there had +hardly been a time in his short life when he had not been his +father's open enemy. He could have told you that it had not been +always his fault, though he would never have told you. But I say +that what he, a youth of thirty, had made of his inheritance was as +nothing to that elder's wasting of his. In moments of hot rage +Richard knew this, and justified himself; but the melting hour came +again when he heaped all reproach upon himself, believing that but +for such and such he might have loved this rooted, terrible old man +who assuredly loved not him. Richard was neither mule nor jade; he +was open to persuasion on two sides. Compunction was one: you could +touch him on the heart and bring him weeping to his knees; +affection was another: if he loved the petitioner he yielded +handsomely. Now, this time it was Jehane and not his conscience +which had sent him to Louviers. First of all Jehane had pleaded the +Sepulchre, his old father, filial obedience, and he had laughed at +the sweet fool. But when she, grown wiser, urged him to pleasure +her by treading on the heart she had given him, he could not deny +her. He was converted, not convinced. So he rode alone, three +hundred yards from his lieges, reasoning out how he could preserve +his honour and yet yield. The more he thought the less he liked it, +but all the more he felt necessity at his throat. And, as always +with him, when he thought he seemed as if turned to stone. 'One way +or another,' Milo tells us, 'every man of the House of Anjou had +his unapproachable side, so accustomed were they to the +fortress-life.'</p> +<p>A broad plain, watered by many rivers, showed the towers of +Louviers and red roofs cinctured by the greatest of them; short of +the walls were the ranked white tents, columned smoke, waggons, +with men and horses, as purposeless, little, and busy as a swarm of +bees. In the midst of this array was a red pavilion with a standard +at the side, too heavy for the wind. All was set in the clear +sunless air of an autumn day in Normandy; the hour, one short of +noon. Richard reined up for his company, on a little hill.</p> +<p>'The powers of England, my lords,' he said, pointing with his +hand. All stayed beside him. Gaston of Béarn tweaked his +black beard.</p> +<p>'Let us be done with the business, Richard,' said this knight, +'before the irons can get out.'</p> +<p>'What!' cried the Count, 'shall a father smite his son?' No one +answered: in a moment he was ashamed of himself. 'Before God,' he +said, 'I mean no impiety. I will do what I have undertaken as +gently as may be. Come, gentlemen.' He rode on.</p> +<p>The camp was defended by fosse and bridge. At the barbican all +the Aquitanians except Richard dismounted, and all stayed about him +while a herald went forward to tell the King who was come in. The +King knew very well who it was, but chose not to know it; he kept +the herald long enough to make his visitors chafe, then sent word +that the Count of Poictou would be received, but alone. Claiming +his right to ride in, Richard followed the heralds at a foot's +pace, alone, ungreeted by any. At the mount of the standard he got +off his horse, found the ushers of the King's door, and went +swiftly to the entry of the pavilion (which they held open for +him), as though, like some forest beast, he saw his prey. There in +the entry he stiffened suddenly, and stiffly went down on his two +knees. Midway of the great tent, square and rugged before him, with +working jaws and restless little fired eyes, sat the old King his +father, hands on knees, between them a long bare sword. Beside him +was his son John, thin and flushed, and about, a circle of peers: +two bishops in purple, a pock-marked monk of Cluny, Bohun, +Grantmesnil, Drago de Merlou, and a few more. On the ground was a +secretary biting his pen.</p> +<p>The King looked his best on a throne, for his upper part was his +best. It was, at least, the mannish part. With scanty red hair much +rubbed into disorder, a seamed red face, blotched and shining; with +a square jaw awry, the neck and shoulders of a bull; with gnarled +gross hands at the end of arms long out of measure, a cruel mouth +and a nose like a bird's beak—his features seemed to have +been hacked coarsely out of wood and as coarsely painted; but what +might have passed by such means for a man was transformed by his +burning eyes, with their fuel of pain, into the similitude of a +fallen angel. The devil of Anjou sat eating King Henry's eyes, and +you saw him at his meal. It gave the man the look of a wild boar +easing his tusks against a tree, horrible, yet content to be +abhorred, splendid, because so strong and lonely. But the prospect +was not comfortable. Little as he knew of his father, Richard could +make no mistake here. The old King was in a picksome mood, fretted +by rage: angry that his son should kneel there, more than angry +that he had not knelt before.</p> +<p>The play began, like a farce. The King affected not to see him, +let him kneel on. Richard did kneel on, as stiff as a rod. The King +talked with obscene jocosity, every snap betraying his humour, to +Prince John; he scandalised even his bishops, he abashed even his +barons. He infinitely degraded himself, yet seemed to wallow in +disgrace. So Richard's gorge (a tender organ) rose to hear him. +'God, what wast Thou about, to let such a hog be made?' he +muttered, loud enough for at least three people to hear. The King +heard it and was pleased; the Prince heard it, and with a scared +eye perceived that Bohun had heard it. The King went grating on, +John fidgeted; Bohun, greatly daring, whispered in his master's +ear.</p> +<p>The King replied with a roar which all the camp might have +heard. 'Ha! Sacred Face, let him kneel, Bohun. That is a new custom +for him, useful science for a man of his trade. All men of the +sword come to it sooner or later—sooner or later, by +God!'</p> +<p>Hereupon Richard, very deliberately, rose to his feet and +stepped forward to the throne. His great height was a crowning +abomination. The King blinked up at him, showing his tushes.</p> +<p>'What now, sir?' he said.</p> +<p>'Later for me, sire, if kneeling is to be done by soldiers,' +said Richard. The King controlled himself by swallowing.</p> +<p>'And yet, Richard,' he said, dry as dust, 'And yet, Richard, you +have knelt to the French lad soon enough.'</p> +<p>'To my liege-lord, sire? Yes, it is true.'</p> +<p>'He is not your liege-lord, man,' roared the King. 'I am your +liege-lord, by heaven. I gave and I can take away. Heed me +now.'</p> +<p>'Fair sire,' says Richard, 'observe that I have knelt to you. I +am not here for any other reason, and least of all to try +conclusions of the voice. I have come out of my lands with my +company to give you obedience. Be sure that they, on their part, +will pay you proper honour (as I do) if you will let them.'</p> +<p>'You come from lands I have given you, as Henry came, as +Geoffrey came, to defy me,' said the old man, trembling in his +chair. 'What is your obedience worth when I have measured theirs: +Henry's obedience! Geoffrey's obedience! Pish, man, what words you +use.' He got up and stamped about the tent like an irritable dwarf, +crook-legged and long-armed, pricked, maddened at every point. 'And +you tell me of your men, your lands, your company! Good men all, a +fair company, by the Rood of Grace! Tell me now, Richard, have you +Raimon of Toulouse in that company? Have you Béziers?'</p> +<p>'No, sire,' said Richard, looking serenely down at the working +face.</p> +<p>'Nor ever will have,' snarled the King. 'Have you the Knight of +Béarn?'</p> +<p>'I have, sire.'</p> +<p>'Ill company, Richard. It is a white-faced, lying beast, with a +most goatish beard. Have you your singing monk?'</p> +<p>'I have, sire.'</p> +<p>'Shameful company. Have you Adhémar of Limoges?'</p> +<p>'Yes, sire.'</p> +<p>'Silly company. Leave him with his women. Have you your Abbot +Milo?'</p> +<p>'Yes.'</p> +<p>'Sick company.' His head sank into his breast; he found himself +suddenly tired, even of reviling, and had to sit down again. +Richard felt a tide of pity; looking down at the huddled old man, +he held out his hand.</p> +<p>'Let us not quarrel, father,' he said; but that brought up the +King's head, like a call to arms.</p> +<p>'A last question, Richard. Have you dared bring here Bertran de +Born?' He was on his feet again for the reply, and the two men +faced each other. Everybody knew how serious the question was. It +sobered the Count, but drove the pity out of him.</p> +<p>'Dare is not a word for Anjou, sire,' he replied, picking his +phrases; 'but Bertran is not with me.' Before the old man could +break again into savagery he went on to his main purpose. 'Sire, +short speeches are best. You seek to draw my ill-humours, but you +shall not draw them. As son and servant of your Grace I came in, +and so will go out. As a son I have knelt to the King my father, as +servant I am ready to obey him. Let that marriage, designed in the +cradle by the French King and you, go on. I will do my part if +Madame Alois will do hers.'</p> +<p>Richard folded his arms; the King sat down again. A queer +exchange of glances had passed between his father and brother at +the mention of that lady's name. Richard, who saw it, got the +feeling of some secret between them, the feeling of being in a +trap; but he said nothing. The King began his old harping.</p> +<p>'Attend to me now, Richard,' he said, with much work of the +eyebrows; 'if that ill-gotten beast Bertran had been of your meinie +our last words had been said. Beast! He is a toothed snake, that +crawled into my boy's bed and bit passion into him. Lord Jesus, if +ever again I meet Bertran, help Thou me to redden his face! But as +it is, I am content. Rest you here with me, if so rough a lodging +may content your nobility. As for Madame Alois, she shall be sent +for; but I think I will not meet your bevy of joglars from the +south. I have a proud stomach o' these days; I doubt pastry from +Languedoc would turn me sour; and liking monks little enough as it +is, your throstle-cock of Montauban might cause me to blaspheme. +See them entertained, Drago; or better, let them entertain each +other—with singing games, holy God! Go you, Bohun'—and +he turned—'fetch in Madame Alois.' Bohun went through a +curtain behind him, and the King sat in thought, biting his +thumbs.</p> +<p>Madame Alois of France came out of the inner tent, a slinking, +thin girl, with the white and tragic face of the fool in a comedy +set in black hair. Richard thought she was mad by the way she +stared about her from one man to another; but he went down on his +knee in a moment. Prince John turned stiff, the old King bent his +brows to watch Richard. The lady, who was dressed in black, and +looked to be half fainting, shrank in an odd way towards the wall, +as if to avoid a whip. 'Too long in England, poor soul,' Richard +thought; 'but why did she come from the King's tent?'</p> +<p>It was not a cheerful meeting, nor did the King show any desire +to make it better. When by roundabout and furtive ways Madame Alois +at last stood drooping by his chair, he began to talk to her in +English, a language unknown to Richard, though familiar enough, he +saw, to his father and brother. 'It seems to be his Grace's desire +to make me ridiculous,' he went on to say to himself: 'what a +dead-level of grim words! In English, it appears, you do not talk. +You stab with the tongue.' In truth, there was no conversation. The +King or the Prince spoke, and Madame Alois moistened her lips; she +looked nowhere but at the old tyrant, not at his eyes, but above +them, at his forehead, and with a trepitant gaze, like a watched +hare's. 'The King has her in thrall, soul and body,' Richard +considered. Then his knee began to ache, and he released it. 'Fair +sire,' he began in his own tongue. Madame Alois gave a start, and +'Ha, Richard,' says the King, 'art thou still there, man?'</p> +<p>'Where else, my lord?' asked the son. The father looked at +Alois.</p> +<p>'Deign to recognise in this baron, Madame,' he said, 'my son the +Count of Poictou. Let him salute, Madame, that which he has sought +from so far, and with such humility, pardieu; your white hand, +Alois.' The strange girl quivered, then put her hand out. Richard, +kissing it, found it horribly cold.</p> +<p>'Lady,' he said, 'I pray we may be better acquainted; but I must +tell you that I have no English. Let me hope that in this good land +you may recover your French.' He got no answer from the lady, but, +by heaven, he made his father angry.</p> +<p>'We hope, Richard, that you will teach Madame better things than +that,' sniffed the old man, nosing about for battle.</p> +<p>'I pray that I may teach her no worse, my lord,' replied the +other. 'You will perhaps allow that for a daughter of France the +tongue may have its uses.'</p> +<p>'As English, Count, for the son of England!' cried his father; +'or for his wife, by the mass, if he is fit to have one.'</p> +<p>'Of that, sire, we must talk at your Grace's leisure,' said +Richard slowly. 'Jesus!' he asked himself, 'will he put me to a +block of ice? What is the matter with this woman?' The King put an +end to his questions by dismissing Madame Alois, breaking up the +assembly, and himself retiring. He was dreadfully fatigued, quite +white and breathless. Richard saw him follow the lady through the +inner curtain, and again was uncomfortably suspicious. But when his +brother John made to slip in also he thought there must be an end +of it. He tapped the young man on the shoulder.</p> +<p>'Brother, a word with you,' says he; and John came twittering +back. The two were alone in the tent.</p> +<p>This John—Sansterre, Landlos, Lackland, so they variously +called him—was a timid copy of his brother, a wry-necked +reedy Richard with a sniff. Not so tall, yet more spare, with blue +eyes more pallid than his brother's, and protruding where Richard's +were inset, the difference lay more in degree than kind. Richard +was of heroic build, but a well-knit, well-shaped hero; in John the +arms were too long, the head too small, the brow too narrow. +Richard's eyes were perhaps too wide apart; no doubt John's were +too near together. Richard twitched his fingers when he was moved, +John bit his cheek. Richard stooped from the neck, John from the +shoulders. When Richard threw up his head you saw the lion; John at +bay reminded you of a wolf in a corner. John snarled at such times, +Richard breathed through his nose. John showed his teeth when he +was crossed, Richard when he was merry. So many thousand points of +unlikeness might be named, all small: the Lord knows here are +enough. The Angevin cat-and-dog nature was fairly divided between +these two. Richard had the sufficiency of the cat, John the +dependence of a dog; John had the cat's secretiveness, Richard the +dog's dash. At heart John was a thief.</p> +<p>He feared and hated his brother; so when Richard said, 'Brother, +a word with you,' John tried to disguise apprehension in disgust. +The result was a very sick smile.</p> +<p>'Willingly, dear brother, and the more so—' he began; but +Richard cut him short.</p> +<p>'What under the light of the sky is the matter with that lady?' +he asked him.</p> +<p>John had been preparing for that. He raised his eyebrows and +splayed out both his hands. 'Can you ask? Eh, our Lord! +Emotion—a stranger in a strange land—an access of the +shudders—who knows women? So long from France-dreadful of her +brother—dreadful of you—so many things! a silly +mind—ah, my brother!'</p> +<p>Richard checked him testily. 'Put a point, put a point, you +drown me in phrases; your explanations explain nothing. One more +word. What in the devil's name is she doing in there?' He had a +short way. John began to stammer.</p> +<p>'A second father—a tender guardian—'</p> +<p>'Pish!' said Count Richard, and turned to leave the pavilion. +Prince John slipped through the curtains, and at that moment +Richard heard a little fretful cry within, not the cry of mortal +lady. 'What under heaven have they got in there, this family?' he +asked himself. Shrugging, he went out into the fresh air.</p> +<p>The abbot notes that his lord and master came running into his +quarters, 'and tumbled upon me, like a lover who finds his mistress +after many days. "Milo, Milo, Milo," he began to cry, three times +over, as if the name helped him, "Thou wilt live to see a puddock +upon the throne of England!" Thus he strangely said.'</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>HOW JEHANE STROKED WHAT ALOIS HAD MADE FIERCE</h3> +<p>When the Count of Saint-Pol came to Paris he found the going +very delicate. For it is a delicate matter to confer in a king's +capital, with a king's allies, how best to throw obstacles in that +king's way. As a matter of fact he found that he could do little or +nothing in the business. King Philip was in great feather +concerning his sister's arrival; the heralds were preparing to go +out to meet her. Nicholas d'Eu and the Baron of Quercy were to +accompany them; King Philip thought Saint-Pol the very man to make +a third, but this did not suit the Count at all. He sought out his +kinsman the Marquess of Montferrat, a heavy Italian, who gave him +very little comfort. All he could suggest was that his 'good +cousin' would do better to help him to the certain throne of +Jerusalem. 'What do you want with more than one king in a family?' +asked the Marquess. Saint-Pol grew rather dry as he assured him +that one king would suffice, and that Anjou was nearer than +Jerusalem. He went on to hint at various strange speculations rife +concerning the history of Madame Alois. 'If you want garbage, +Eudo,' said Montferrat to this, 'come not to me. But I know a rat +who might be of service.'</p> +<p>'The name of your rat, Marquess! It is all I ask.'</p> +<p>'Bertran de Born: who else?' said Montferrat. Now, Bertran de +Born was the thorn in the flesh of Anjou, a rankling addition to +their state whom they were never without. Saint-Pol knew his value +very well, and decided to go down to see the man in his own +country. So he would have gone, no doubt, had not his sovereign +judged otherwise. Saint-Pol received commands to accompany the +heralds to Louviers, so had to content himself with a messenger to +the trobador and a letter which announced the extreme happiness of +the great Count of Poictou. This, he knew, would draw the +poison-bag.</p> +<p>The Frenchmen arrived at Louviers none too soon. As well mix +fire and ice as Poictevin with Norman or Angevin with Angevin. The +princes stalked about with claws out of velvet, the nobles bickered +fiercely, and the men-at-arms did after their kind. There was open +fighting. Gaston of Béarn picked a quarrel with John +Botetort, and they fought it out with daggers in the fosse. Then +Count Richard took one of his brother's goshawks and would not give +it up. Over the long body of that bird half a score noblemen +engaged with swords; the Count of Poictou himself accounted for +six, and ended by pommelling his brother into a red jelly. There +was a week or more of this, during which the old King hunted like a +madman all day and revelled in gloomy vices all night. Richard saw +little of him and little of the lady of France. She, a pale shade, +flitted dismally out when evoked by the King, dismally in again at +a nod from him. Whenever she did appear Prince John hovered about, +looking tormented; afterwards the pock-marked Cluniac might be +heard lecturing her on theology and the soul's business in +passionless monologue. It was very far from gay. As for her, +Richard believed her melancholy mad; he himself grew fretful, +irritable, most quarrelsome. Thus it was that he first plundered +and then punched his brother.</p> +<p>After that Prince John disappeared for a little to nurse his +sores, and Richard got within fair speaking distance of Madame +Alois. In fact, she sent for him late one night when the King, as +he knew, was away, munching the ashes of charred pleasure in some +stews or other. He obeyed the summons with a half-shrug.</p> +<p>They received him with consternation. The distracted lady was in +a chair, hugging herself; the Cluniac stood by, a mortified emblem; +a scared woman or two fled behind the throne. Madame Alois, when +she saw who the visitor was, began to shake.</p> +<p>'Oh, oh!' she said in a whisper, 'have you come to murder me, my +lord?'</p> +<p>'Why, Madame,' Richard made haste to say, 'I would serve you any +other way but that, and supposed I had the right. But I came +because you sent for me.'</p> +<p>She passed her hand once or twice over her face, as if to brush +cobwebs away; one of the women made a piteous appeal of the eyes to +Richard, who took no notice of it; the monk said something to +himself in a low voice, then to the Count, 'Madame is overwrought, +my lord.'</p> +<p>'Yes, you rascal,' thought Richard; 'your work.' Aloud he said, +'I hope her Grace will give you leave to retire, sir.' Madame +hereupon waved her people away, and went on waving long after they +had gone. Thus she was alone with her future lord. There was the +wreck of fine beauty about her drawn race, beauty of the +black-and-white, sheeted sort; but she looked as if she walked with +ghosts. Richard was very gentle with her. He drew near, saying, 'I +grieve to see you thus, Madame'; but she stopped him with a +question—</p> +<p>'They seek to have you marry me?'</p> +<p>He smiled: 'Our masters desire it, Madame.'</p> +<p>'Are you very sure of that?'</p> +<p>'I am here,' he explained, 'because I am so sure.'</p> +<p>'And you desire—'</p> +<p>'I, Madame,' he said quickly and shortly, 'desire two +things—the good of my country and your good. If I desire +anything else, God knows it is to keep my promise.'</p> +<p>'What is your promise?'</p> +<p>'Madame,' said Richard, 'I bear the Cross on my shoulder, as you +see.'</p> +<p>'Why,' she said, fearfully regarding it, 'that is God's +work!'</p> +<p>She began to walk about the room quickly, and to talk to +herself. He could not catch properly what she said. Religion came +into it, and a question of time. 'Now it should be done, now it +should be done!' and then, 'Hear, O thou Shepherd of Israel!' and +then with a wild look into Richard's face—'That was a strange +thing to do to a lady. They can never lay that to me!' Afterwards +she began to wring her hands, with a cry of 'Fie, poison, poison, +poison!' looking at Richard all the time.</p> +<p>'This poor lady,' he told himself, 'is possessed by a devil, +therefore no wife for me, who have devil enough and to spare.'</p> +<p>'What ails you, Madame?' he asked her. 'Tell me your grief, and +upon my life I will amend it if I can.'</p> +<p>'You cannot,' she said. 'Nothing can mend it.'</p> +<p>'Then, with leave'—he went to the curtains—'I will +call your Grace's people. Our discussions can be later; there is +time enough.'</p> +<p>She would have stopped him had she dared, or had the force; but +literally she was spent. There was just time to get the women in +before she tumbled. Richard, in his perplexity, determined to +wrangle out the matter with the King on the morrow, cost what it +might. So he did; and to his high surprise the King reasoned +instead of railing. Madame Alois, he said, was weakly, un-wholesome +indeed. In his opinion she wanted, what all young women want, a +husband. She was too much given to the cloister, she had visions, +she was feared to use the discipline, she ate nothing, was more +often on her knees than on her feet. 'All this, my son,' said King +Henry, 'you shall correct at your discretion. Humours, vapours, +qualms, fantasies—pouf! You can blow them away with a kiss. +Have you tried it? No? Too cold? Nay, but you should.' And so on, +and so on. That day, none too soon, the French ambassadors arrived, +and Richard saw the Count of Saint-Pol among them.</p> +<p>He had never liked the Count of Saint-Pol; or perhaps it would +be truer to say that he disliked him more than ordinary. But he +belonged to, had even a tinge of, Jehane; some of her secret +fragrance hung about him, he walked in some ray of her glory. It +seemed to Richard, bothered, sick, fretted, a little disconcerted +as he was now, that the Count of Saint-Pol had an air which none +other of this people had. He greeted him therefore with more than +usual affability, very much to Saint-Pol's concern. Richard +observed this, and suddenly remembered that he was doing the man +what the man must certainly believe to be a cruel wrong. '<i>Mort +de Dieu!</i> What am I about?' his heart cried. 'I ought to be +ashamed to look this fellow in the face, and here I am making a +brother of him.'</p> +<p>'Saint-Pol,' he said immediately, 'I should like to speak with +you. I owe you that.'</p> +<p>'Your Grace's servant,' said Eudo, with a stiff reverence, 'when +and where you will.'</p> +<p>'Follow me,' said Richard, 'as soon as you have done with all +this foppery.'</p> +<p>In about an hour's time he was obeyed. After his fashion he took +a straight plunge.</p> +<p>'Saint-Pol,' he said, 'I think you know where my heart is, +whether here or elsewhere. I desire you to understand that in this +case I am acting against my own will and judgment.'</p> +<p>The frankness of this lordly creature was unmistakable, even to +Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'Hey, sire—,' he began spluttering, honesty in arms with +rage. Richard took him up.</p> +<p>'If you doubt that, as you have my leave to do, I am ready to +convince you. I will ride with you wherever you choose, and place +myself at your discretion. Subject to this, mind you, that the +award is final. Once more I will do it. Will you abide by that? +Will you come with me?'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol cursed his fate. Here he was, tied to the French +girl.</p> +<p>'My lord,' he said, 'I cannot obey you. My duty is to take +Madame to Paris. That is my master's command.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said Richard, 'then I shall go alone. Once more I shall +go. I am sick to death of this business.'</p> +<p>'My lord Richard,' cried Saint-Pol, 'I am no man to command you. +Yet I say, Go. I know not what has passed between your Grace and my +sister Jehane; but this I know very well. It will be a strange +thing'—he laughed, not pleasantly—'a strange thing, I +say, if you cannot bend that arbiter to your own way of thinking.' +Richard looked at him coldly.</p> +<p>'If I could do that, my friend,' he said, 'I should not suffer +arbitration at all.'</p> +<p>'The proposition was not mine, my lord,' urged Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'It could not be, sir,' Richard said sharply. 'I proposed it +myself, because I consider that a lady has the right to dispose of +her own person. She loved me once.'</p> +<p>'I believe that she is yours at this hour, sire.'</p> +<p>'That is what I propose to find out,' said Richard. 'Enough. +What news have they in Paris?'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol could not help himself; he was bursting with a budget +he had received from the south. 'They greatly admire a sirvente of +Bertran de Born's, sire.'</p> +<p>'What is the stuff of the sirvente?'</p> +<p>'It is a scandalous subject, sire. He calls it the Sirvente of +Kings, and speaks much evil of your Order.' Richard laughed.</p> +<p>'I will warrant him to do that better than any man alive, and +allow him some reason for it. I think I will go to see +Bertran.'</p> +<p>'Ha, sire,' said Saint-Pol with meaning, 'he will tell you many +things, some good, and some not so good.'</p> +<p>'Be sure he will,' said Richard. 'That is Bertran's way.'</p> +<p>He would trust no one with his present reflections, and seek no +outside strength against his present temptations. He had always had +his way; it had seemed to come to him by right, by the <i>droit de +seigneur</i>, the natural law which puts the necks of fools under +the heels of strong men. No need to consider of all that: he knew +that the thing desired lay to his hand; he could make Jehane his +again if he would, and neither King of England nor King of France, +nor Council of Westminster nor Diet of the Empire could stop +him—if he would. But that, he felt now, was just what he +would not. To beat her down with torrents of love-cries; to have +her trembling, cowed, drummed out of her wits by her own +heart-beats; to compel, to dominate, to tame, when her young pride +and young strength were the things most beautiful in her: never, by +the Cross of Christ! That, I suppose, is as near to true love as a +man can get, to reverence in a girl that which holds her apart. +Richard got so near precisely because he was less lover than poet. +You may doubt, if you choose (with Abbot Milo), whether he had love +in him. I doubt. But certainly he was a poet. He saw Jehane all +glorious, and gave thanks for the sight. He felt to touch heaven +when he neared her; but he did not covet her possession, at the +moment. Perhaps he felt that he did possess her: it is a poet's +way. So little, at any rate, did he covet, that, having made up his +mind what he would do, he sent Gaston of Béarn to +Saint-Pol-la-Marche with a letter for Jehane, in which he said: 'In +two days I shall see you for the last or for all time, as you +will'—and then possessed himself in patience the appointed +number of hours.</p> +<p>Gaston of Béarn, romantic figure in those grey latitudes, +pale, black-eyed, freakishly bearded, dressed in bright green, rode +his way singing, announced himself to the lady as the Child of +Love; and when he saw her kissed her foot.</p> +<p>'Starry Wonder of the North,' he said, kneeling, 'I bring fuel +to your ineffable fires. Our King of Lovers and Lover among Kings +is all at your feet, sighing in this paper.' He seemed to talk in +capitals, with a flourish handed her the scroll. He had the +gratification to see her clap a hand to her side directly she +touched it; but no more. She perused it with unwavering eyes in a +stiff head.</p> +<p>'Farewell, sir,' she said then; 'I will prepare for my +lord.'</p> +<p>'And I, lady,' said Gaston, 'in consequence of a vow I have +vowed my saint, will await his coming in the forest, neither +sleeping nor eating until he has his enormous desires. Farewell, +lady.'</p> +<p>He went out backwards, to keep his promise. The brown woodland +was gay with him for a day and a night; for he sang nearly all the +time with unflagging spirits. But Jehane spent part of the interval +in the chapel, with her hands crossed upon her fine bosom. The God +in her heart fought with Him on the altar. She said no prayers; but +when she left the place she sent a messenger for Gilles de Gurdun, +the blunt-nosed Norman knight who loved her so much that he said +nothing about it.</p> +<p>This Gurdun, pricking through the woods, came upon Gaston of +Béarn, dazzling as a spring tree and singing like an +inspired machine. He pulled up at the wonderful sight, and scowled. +It is the proper Norman greeting. Gaston treated him as part of the +landscape, like the rest of it mournful, but provocative of +song.</p> +<p>'Give you good-day, beau sire,' said Gilles; Gaston waved his +hand and went on singing at the top of his voice. Then Gilles, who +was pressed, tried to pass; and Gaston folded his arms.</p> +<p>'Ha, beef,' said he, 'none pass here but the brave.'</p> +<p>'Out, parrot,' quoth Gilles, and plunged through the wood.</p> +<p>Because of Gaston's vow there was no blood shed at the moment, +but he had hopes that he might be released in time. 'There goes a +dead man,' was therefore his comment before he resumed.</p> +<p>But Jehane, when she heard the horse, ran out to meet his rider. +Her face was alight. 'Come in, come in,' she said, and took him by +the hand. He followed her with a beating heart, neither daring nor +knowing how to say anything. She led him into the little dark +chapel.</p> +<p>'Gilles, Gilles,' she said panting, 'do you love me, +Gilles?'</p> +<p>He was hoarse, could hardly speak for the crack in his throat. +'O God,' he said under his breath, 'O God, Jehane, how I love +you!'</p> +<p>Here, because of a certain flicker in her eyes, he made forward; +but she put out her two hands the length of her arms and fenced him +off. 'No, no, Gilles, not yet.' Pain sharpened her voice. 'Listen +first to me. I do not love you; but I am frightened. Some one is +coming; you must be here to help me. I give myself to you—I +will be yours—I must—there is no other way.'</p> +<p>She stopped; you could have heard the thudding of her heart.</p> +<p>'Give then,' said Gilles with a croak, and took her.</p> +<p>She felt herself engulfed in a sea of fire, but set her teeth +and endured the burning of that death. The poor fellow did but kiss +her once or twice, and kissed no closer than the Angevin; but the +grace is one that goes by favour. Gilles, nevertheless, took primer +seisin and was content. Afterwards, hand in hand, trembling each, +the possessed and the possessing, they stood before the twinkling +lamp which hinted at the Son of God, and waited what must +happen.</p> +<p>In about half an hour's time Jehane heard the long padding tread +she knew so well, and took a deep breath. Next Gilles heard +something.</p> +<p>'One comes. Who comes?' he said whispering.</p> +<p>'Richard of Anjou. I need you now.'</p> +<p>'Do you want me to—?' Gilles honestly thought he was to +kill the Count. She undeceived him soon.</p> +<p>'To kill Richard, Gilles? Nay, man, he is not for your killing.' +She gave a short laugh, not very pleasant for her lover to hear. +But Gilles, for all that, put hand to hilt. The Count of Poictou +stooped at the entry and saw them together.</p> +<p>It wanted but that to blow the embers. Something tigerish surged +in him, some gust of jealousy, some arrogant tide in the blood not +all clean. He moved forward like a wind and caught the girl up in +his arms, lifted her off her feet, smothered her cry. 'My Jehane, +my Jehane, who dares—?' Gilles touched him on the shoulder, +and he turned like lightning with Jehane held fast. His breath came +quick and short through his nose: Gilles believed his last hour at +hand, but made the most of it.</p> +<p>'What now, dog?' thus the lean Richard.</p> +<p>'Set down the lady, my lord,' said doughty Gilles. 'She is +promised to me.'</p> +<p>'Heart of God, what is this?' He held back his head, like a +snake, that he might see what he would strike at. 'Is it true, +girl?' Jehane looked up from his shoulder, where she had been +hiding her face. She could not speak, but she nodded.</p> +<p>'It is true? Thou art promised?'</p> +<p>'I am promised, my lord,' said Jehane. 'Let me go.'</p> +<p>He put her down at once, between himself and Gurdun. Gurdun went +to take up her hand again, but at a look from Richard forbore. The +Count went on with his interrogatories, outwardly as calm as a +field of snow.</p> +<p>'In whose name art thou promised to this knight, Jehane? In thy +brother's?'</p> +<p>'No, lord. In my own.'</p> +<p>'Am I nothing?' She began to cry.</p> +<p>'Oh, oh!' she wailed, 'You are everything, everything in the +world.'</p> +<p>He turned away from her, and stood facing the altar, with folded +arms, considering. Gilles had the wit to be silent; the girl fought +for breath. Richard, in fact, was touched to the heart, and capable +of any sacrifice which could seem the equivalent of this. He must +always lead, even in magnanimity; but it was a better thing than +emulation moved him now. When he next turned with a calm, true face +to Jehane there was not a shred of the Angevin in him; all was +burnt away.</p> +<p>'What is the name of this knight, Jehane?' She told him, Gilles +de Gurdun.</p> +<p>Then he said, 'Come hither, De Gurdun,' and Gilles knelt down +before the son of his overlord. Jehane would have knelt to him too, +but that he held her by the hand and would not suffer it.</p> +<p>'Now, Gilles, listen to what I shall tell you,' said Richard. +'There is no lady in the world more noble than this one, and no man +living who means more faithfully by her than I. I will do her will +this day, and that speedily, lest the devil be served. Are you a +true man, Gilles?'</p> +<p>'Lord,' said Gurdun, 'I try to be so. Your father made me a +knight. I have loved this lady since she was twelve years old.'</p> +<p>'Are you a man of substance, my friend?'</p> +<p>'We have a good fief, my lord. My father holds of the Church of +Rouen, and the Church of the Duke. I serve with a hundred spears +where I may, a <i>routier</i> if nothing better offer.'</p> +<p>'If I give you Jehane, what do you give me?'</p> +<p>'Thanks, my good lord, and faith, and long service.'</p> +<p>'Get up, Gilles,' said Richard.</p> +<p>Gilles kissed his knee, and rose. Richard put Jehane's hand into +his and held the two together.</p> +<p>'God serve me as I shall serve you, Gilles, if any harm come of +this,' he said shrewdly, with words that whistled in the air; and +as Gilles looked him squarely in the face, Richard ran an eye over +him. Gilles was found honest. Richard kissed Jehane on the +forehead, and went out without a look back. At the edge of the wood +he found Gaston of Béarn sucking his fingers.</p> +<p>'There went by here,' said the gay youth, 'a black knight with a +face of a raw meat colour, and the most villainous scowl ever you +saw. I consider him to be dead already.'</p> +<p>'I have given him something which should cure him of the scowl +and justify his colour,' answered him the Count. 'Moreover, I have +given him the chance of eternal life.' Then with a cry—'Oh, +Gaston, let us get to the South, see the sun fleck the roads, smell +the oranges! Let us get to the South, man! It seems I have +entertained an angel. And now that I have given her wings, and now +that she is gone, I know how much I love her. Speed, Gaston! We +will go to the South, see Bertran, and make some songs of good +women and men in want!'</p> +<p>'Pardieu,' said Gaston. 'I am with you, Richard, for I am in +want. I have eaten nothing for two days.'</p> +<p>So they rode out of the woods of Saint-Pol-la-Marche, and +Richard began to sing songs of Jehane the Fair-Girdled; never truly +her lover until he might love her no more.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>HOW BERTRAN DE BORN AND COUNT RICHARD STROVE IN A +<i>TENZON</i></h3> +<p>Day-long and night-long he sang of her, being now in the poetic +mood, highly exalted, out of himself. The country took tints of +Jehane, her shape, her fine nobility. The thrust hills of the Vexin +were her breasts; the woods, being hot gold, her russet hair; in +still green water he read the secrets of her eyes; in the milk of +October dawns her calm brows had been dipped. The level light of +the Beauce, so beneficent yet so austere, figured her soul. +Fair-girdled was Touraine by Vienne and Loire; fair-girdled Jehane, +who wore virgin candour about her loins and over her heart a shield +of blue ice. As far southwards as Tours the dithyrambic prevailed; +Richard was untiring in the hunt for analogues. Thence on to +Poictiers, where the country (being his own) was perhaps more +familiar; indeed, while he was climbing the grey peaks of +Montagrier with his goal almost in sight, he turned scholiast and +glossed his former raptures.</p> +<p>'You are not to tell me, Gaston,' he declared, 'that my Jehane +has been untrue. She was never more wholly mine than when she gave +herself to that other, never loved me more dearly. Such power is +given to women to lead this world. It is the power of the Word, who +cut Himself off and made us His butchers in pure love. I shall do +my part. I shall wed the French girl, who in my transports will +never guess that in reality Jehane will be in my arms.' Tears +filled his eyes. 'For we shall be wedded in the sight of heaven,' +he said sighing.</p> +<p>'Deus!' cried Gaston here, 'Such marriages may be more to the +taste of heaven than of men, Richard. Man is a creature of +sense.'</p> +<p>'He hath a spiritual part,' said Richard, 'so rarely hidden that +only the thin fingers of a girl may get in to touch it. Then, being +touched, he knows that it is quick. Let me alone; I am not all mud +nor all devil. I shall do my duty, marry the French girl, and love +my golden Jehane until I die.'</p> +<p>'That is the saying of a poet and king at once, said Gaston, and +really believed it.</p> +<p>So they came at dusk to Autafort, a rock castle on the confines +of Perigord, held by Bertran de Born.</p> +<p>It looked, and was, a robber's hold, although it had a poet for +castellan. Its walls merely prolonged the precipices on which they +were founded, its towers but lifted the mountain spurs more sharply +to the sky. It dominated two watersheds, was accessible only on one +side, and then by a ridgeway; from it the valley roads and +rockstrewn hillsides could be seen for many leagues. Long before +Richard was at the gate the Lord of Autafort had had warning, and +had peered down upon his suzerain at his clambering. 'The crows +shall have Richard before Richard me,' said Bertran de Born; so he +had his bridge pulled up and portcullis let down, and Autafort +showed a bald face to the newcomers.</p> +<p>Gaston grinned. 'Hospitality of Aquitaine! Hospitality of your +duchy, Richard.'</p> +<p>'By my head,' said the Count, 'if I sleep under the stars I +sleep at Autafort this night. But hear me charm this plotter.' He +called at the top of his voice, 'Ha, Bertran! Come you down, man.' +The surrounding hills echoed his cries, the jackdaws wheeled about +the turrets; but presently came one and put his eye to the grille. +Richard saw him.</p> +<p>'Is that you, then, Bertran?' he shouted. There was no answer, +but the spyer was heard breathing hard at his vent.</p> +<p>'Come out of your earth, red fox,' Richard chid him. 'Show your +grievous snout to the hills; do your snuffling abroad to the clear +sky. I have whipped off the hounds; my father is not here. Will you +let starve your liege-lord?'</p> +<p>At this the bolts were drawn, the bridge went down with a +clatter, and Bertran de Born came out—a fine stout man, all +in a pother, with a red, perplexed face, angry eyes, hair and beard +cut in blocks, a body too big for his clothes—a man of hot +blood, fumes and rages. Richard at sight of him, this unquiet +sniffer of offences, this whirled about with stratagems, threw back +his head and laughed long and loud.</p> +<p>'O thou plotter of thine own dis-ease! O rider of nightmares, +what harm can I do thee? Not, believe me, a tithe of thy desert. +Come thou here straightly, Master Bertran, and take what I shall +give thee.'</p> +<p>'By God, Lord Richard—' said Bertran, and boggled +horribly; but the better man waited, and in the end he came up +sideways. Richard swung from his horse, took his host by the +shoulders, shook him well, and kissed him on both cheeks. 'Spinner +of mischief, red robber, singer of the thoughts of God!' he said, +'I swear I love thee through it all, Bertran, though I should do +better to wring thy neck. Now give us food and drink and clean +beds, for Gaston at least is a dead man without them. Afterwards we +will sing songs.'</p> +<p>'Come in, come in, Richard,' said Bertran de Born.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>For a day or two Richard was bathed in golden calm, hugging his +darling thought, full of Jehane, fearful to share her. Often he +remembered it in later life; it held a place and commanded a mood +which no hour of his wildest possession could outvie. The mountain +air, still, but latently nimble, the great mountains themselves +dreaming in the sunlight, the sailing birds, hinted a peace to his +soul whither his last conquest of his baser part assured him he +might soar. Now he could guess (thought he) that quality in love +which it borrows from God and shares with the angels, ministers of +God, the steady burning of a flame keen and hard. So on an +afternoon of weather serene beyond all belief of the North, mild, +tired, softly radiant, still as a summer noon; as he sat with +Bertran in a courtyard where were lemon-trees and a fountain, and +above the old white walls, and above the strutting pigeons, a +square of blue, he began to speak of his affairs, of what he had +done and of what was to do.</p> +<p>Bertran's was a grudging spirit: you shall hear the Abbot Milo +upon that matter anon, than whom there are few better qualified to +speak. He grudged Richard everything—his beauty, his knit and +graceful body, his brain like a sword, his past exploits, his +present content. What it was contented him he knew not altogether, +though a letter from Saint-Pol had in part advised him; but he was +sure he had wherewithal to discontent him. 'Foh! a juicy orange +indeed,' he said to himself, 'but I can wring him dry.' If Richard +hugged one thought, Bertran hugged another, and took it to bed with +him o' nights. Now, therefore, when Richard spoke of Jehane, +Bertran said nothing, waiting his time; but when he went on to +Madame Alois and his duty (which really coloured all the former +thought) Bertran made a grimace.</p> +<p>'Rascal,' says Richard, shamming rough, 'why do you make faces +at me?'</p> +<p>Bertran began jerking about like the lid of a boiling pot, and +presently sends a boy for his viol. At this, when it came, he +snatched, and set to plucking a chord here and a chord there, +grinning fearfully all the time.</p> +<p>'A <i>tenzon!</i> A <i>tenzon!</i> beau sire!' cries he. 'Now a +<i>tenzon</i> between you and me!'</p> +<p>'Let it be so,' says Richard; 'have at you. I sing of the calm +day, of the sweets of true love.'</p> +<p>'Accorded,' says the other. 'And I sing of the sours of false +love. Do you set the mode, prince of blood royal as you are.'</p> +<p>Richard took the viol without after-thought and struck a few +chords. A great tenderness was in his heart; he saw Duty and +himself hand in hand walking a long road by night; two large stars +beaconed the way; these were Jehane's eyes. A watcher or two stole +into the upper gallery, leaned on the parapet and listened, for +both men were renowned singers. Richard began to sing of green-eyed +Jehane, who wore the gold girdle, whose hair was red gold. His song +was—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Li dous consire<br /> +Quem don' Amors soven—</div> +<p>but I English it thus—</p> +<p>'That gentle thought which love will give sometimes is like a +plait of silk and gold, and so is this song of mine to be; wherein +you shall find a red deep cry which cometh from the heart, and a +thin blue cry which is the cry of what is virgin in my soul, and a +golden long cry, the cry of the King, and a cry clear as crystal +and colder than a white moon: and that is the cry of Jehane.'</p> +<p>Bertran, trembling, snatched at the viol. 'Mine to sing, +Richard, mine to sing! Ha, love me no more!'</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Cantar d' Amors non voilh,</div> +<p>he began—</p> +<p>'Your strands are warped and will not accord, for love will warp +any song. It turneth the heart of a man black, and the soul it +eateth up. At fourteen goes the virgin first a-wallowing; and soon +the King croaks like a hog. A plait! Love is a fetter of hot iron; +so my song shall be iron-cruel like the bidding of Jehane. Say now, +shall I set the song? The love-cry is the cry of a man who drags +his way with his side torn; and the colour of it is dry red, like +old blood; and the sound thereof maketh the hearers ache, so it +quavers and shrills. For it cries only two things: sorrow and +shame.'</p> +<p>He misconceived his adversary who thought to quell him by such +vapours. Richard took the viol.</p> +<p>'Bertran, it is well seen that thou art pinched and have a torn +side; but ask of thy itching fingers who graved the wound. Dry thou +art, Bertran, for thy trough is dry; the husks prick thy gums, but +there is no other meat. Well may the hearers' ears go aching; for +thy cry, man, proceedeth from thy aching belly. But now I will set +the song again, and tell thee of a lady girdled with fine gold. +Beneath the girdle beats a red heart; but her spirit is like a +spire of blue smoke, that comes from a fire, indeed, but strains up +to heaven. Warmed by that fire, like that smoke I fly up; and so I +lie among the stars with Jehane.'</p> +<p>Bertran's jaw was at work, mashing his tongue. 'Ah, Richard, is +it so with thee? Wait now while I strike a blow.' He made the viol +scream.</p> +<p>'What if I twist the song awry, and give thee good cause to limp +the sorrowful way? What if for my aching belly I give thee an +aching heart? Eh, if my fingers scratch my side, there are worse +talons at thine. Watch for the Lion's claw, Richard, which tears +not flesh but honour, and gives more pain than any knife. Pain! He +is King of Pain! Mend that, then face sorrow and shame.'</p> +<p>Ending with a snap, he grinned more knowledge out of his red +eyes than he pronounced with his mouth. His terrible excitement, +the labour and sweat of it, set Richard's brows knitting. He +stretched out his hand for the viol slowly; and his eyes were cold +on Bertran, and never off him for a moment as he sang to this +enemy, and judged him while he sang. The note was changed.</p> +<p>'The Lion is a royal beast, a king, whose son am I. We maul not +each other in Anjou, save when the jackal from the South cometh +snarling between. Then, when we see the unclean beast, saith one, +"Faugh! is this your friend?" and the other, "Thou dost ill to say +so." Then the blood may flow and the jackal get a meal. But here +there is none to come licking blood. The prize is the White Roe of +France, fed on the French lilies, and now in safe harbour. She +shall lie by the Leopard, and the Lion rule the forest in peace +because of the peace about him; and like a harvest moon above us, +clear of the trees, will be Jehane.'</p> +<p>'Listen, Richard, I will be clearer yet,' came from between +Bertran's teeth. He fairly ground them together. Having the viol, +he struck but one note upon it, with such rudeness that the string +broke. He threw the thing away and sang without it, leaning his +hands on his knees, and craning forward that he might spit the +words.</p> +<p>'This is the bite of the song: she is forsworn. Harbour? She +kept harbour too long; she is mangled, she is torn. Touch not the +Lion's prey, Leopard. You go hunting too late—for all but +sorrow and shame.'</p> +<p>Richard stretched not his hand again; his jaw dropped and most +of the strong colour died down in his face. Turned to stone, stiff +and immovable, he sat staring at the singer, while Bertran, biting +his lip, still grinning and twitching with his late effort, watched +him.</p> +<p>'Give me the truth, thou.' His voice was like an old man's, +hollow.</p> +<p>'As God is in heaven that is the truth, Richard,' said Bertran +de Born.</p> +<p>The Count's head went up, as when a hound yelps to the sky: +laughter ensued, barking laughter—not mirth, not grief +disguised, but mockery, the worst of all. One on the gallery nudged +his fellow; that other shrugged him off. Richard stretched his long +arms, his clenched fists to the dumb sky. 'Have I bent the knee to +good issues or not? Have I abased my head? O clement prince! O +judge in Israel! O father of kings! Hear now a parable of the +Prodigal: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and +thou art no more worthy to be called my father. O glutton! O +filching dog!'</p> +<p>'By the torch of the Gospel, Count Richard, what I sang is +true,' said Bertran, still tensely grinning, and now also wringing +at his hang-nails. Richard, checked by the voice, turned blazing +upon him.</p> +<p>'Why, thou school-boy rhymester, that is the only merit thou +hast, and that not thine own! Thy japes are nought, thy tragics the +mewing of cats; but thy news, fellow, thy news is too rich matter +for thy sewer of a throat. Tragic? No, it is worse: it is comic, O +heaven! Heed you now—' In his bitter shame he began +pantomiming with his fingers:—'Here are two persons, father +by the Grace of God, son by the grace of the father. Saith father, +"Son, thou art sprung from kings; take this woman that is sprung +from kings, for I have no further use for her." Anon cometh a white +rag thinly from the inner tent—mark her provenance. Son +kneeleth down. "Wilt thou have my son, cony?" saith father. "Yea, +dear heart," saith she. "'Tis my counterpart, mark you," saith +father. "Better than nothing at all," saith she. Benevolent father, +supple-kneed son, convenient lady. Here is agreement. And thus it +ends.' Again he laughed outright at the steel-blue face of the sky, +then jumped in a flash from his seat to the throat of Bertran. +Bertran tumbled backwards with a strangled cry, and Richard pegged +him to the ground.</p> +<p>'Thou yapping cur, Bertran,' he grated, 'thou sick dog of my +kennel, if this snarl of thine goes true thou hast done a service +to me and mine thou knowest not of. There is little to do before I +am the richest man in Christendom. Why, dull rogue, thou hast set +me free!' He looked up exulting from his work at the man's throat +to shout this word. 'But if it is not true, Bertran'—he shook +him like a rat—'if it is not true, I return, O Bertran, and +tear this false gullet out of its case, and with thy speckled heart +feed the crows of Périgord.' Bertran had foam on his lips, +but Richard showed him no mercy. 'As it is, Bertran,' he went on +with his teeth on edge, 'I am minded to finish thee. But that I +need something from thee I think I should do it. Tell me now whence +came thy news. Tell me, Bertran, or thou art in hell in a +moment.'</p> +<p>He had to let him up to win from him after a time that his +informant was the Count of Saint-Pol. Little matter that this was +untrue, the bringing in of his name set wild alarums clanging in +Richard's head. It was only too likely to have been Saint-Pol's +doing; there was obvious reason; but by the same token Saint-Pol +might be a liar. He saw that he must by all means find Saint-Pol, +and find him at once. He began to shout for Gaston. 'To horse, to +horse, Gaston!' The court rang with his voice; to the clamour he +made, which might betoken murder, arson, pillage, or the sin +against the Holy Ghost, out came the vassals in a swarm. 'To horse, +to horse, Béarnais! Where out of hell is Gaston of +Béarn?' The devil of Anjou was loose in Autafort that +day.</p> +<p>Gaston came delicately last, drawing his beard through his fist, +to see Bertran de Born lie helpless in a lemon-bush hard by the +wall. Richard, quite beyond himself, exploded with his story, and +so was sobered. While Gaston made his comments, he, instead of +listening, made comments of his own.</p> +<p>'Dear Lord Richard,' said Gaston reasonably, 'if you do not know +Bertran by this time it is a strange thing and a pitiful thing. For +it shows you without any wit. He was appointed, it would seem, to +be the thorn in your rosebed of Anjou. What has he done since he +was let be made but set you all by the ears? What did he do by the +young King but miserably? What by Geoffrey? Is there a man in the +world he hates more than the old King? Yes, there is one: you. Take +a token. The last time they two met was in this very castle; and +then the King your father kissed him, and forgiving him Henry's +death, gave him back his Autafort; and Bertran too gave a kiss, +that love might abound. Judas, Judas! And what did Judas next? Dear +Richard, let us think awhile, but not here. Let us go to Limoges +and think with the Viscount. But let us by all means kill Bertran +de Born first.'</p> +<p>During this speech, which had much to recommend it, Richard, as +I have told you, did his thinking by himself. He always cooled as +suddenly as he boiled over; and now, warily regarding the right +hand and the left of this monstrous fable, he saw that, though +Saint-Pol might have played fox in it, another must have played +goat. He could not fail to remember Louviers, and certain horrid +mysteries which had offended him then with only vague disgust, as +for matters which were outside his own care. Now they all took +shape satyric, like hideous heads thrust out of the dark to loll +their tongues at him. To the shock of his first dismay succeeded +the onset of rage, white and cold and deadly as a night frost. Eh, +but he would meet his teeth in some throat! But he would go slowly +to work, clear the ground and stalk his prey. The leopard devises +creeping death. He made up his mind. Gaston he sent to the South, +to Angoulesme, to Périgord, to Auvergne, to Cahors. The horn +must be heard at the head of every brown valley, the armed men +shadow every white road. He himself went to his city of +Poietiers.</p> +<p>Bertran de Born saw him go, and rubbed his hair till it stood +like reeds shaken by the wind. Whether he loved mischief or not +(and some say he breathed it); whether he had a grudge against +Anjou not yet assuaged; whether he was in league with Prince John, +or had indeed thought to do Prince Richard a service, let +philosophers, experts of mankind, determine. If he had a turn for +dramatics he had certainly indulged it now, and given himself +strong meat for a new Sirvente of Kings. At least he was very busy +after Richard's departure, himself preparing for a long journey to +the South.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>FRUITS OF <i>THE TENZON</i>: THE BACK OF SAINT-POL, AND THE +FRONT OF MONTFERRAT</h3> +<p>Count Richard found time, while he was at Poietiers awaiting the +Aquitanian levies, to write six letters to Jehane Saint-Pol. Of +these some, with their bearers, fell by the wayside. As luck would +have it, Jehane received but two, the first and the last. The first +said: 'I am in the way of liberty, but by a red road. Have hopes of +me.' Jehane was long in answering. One may picture the poor soul +taking the dear and wicked thing into the little chapel, laying it +on the altar-stone warm from her vest, restoring it after office +done to that haven whence she must banish its writer. Fortified, +she replied with, 'Alas, my lord, the way of liberty leads not to +me; nor can I serve you otherwise than in bonds. I pray you, make +my yoke no heavier.—Your servant, in little ease, Jehane.' +This wistful unhappy letter gave him heartache; he could scarcely +keep himself at home. Yet he must, being as yet sure of nothing. He +replied in a second and third, a fourth and a fifth letter, which +never reached her. The last was sent when he had begun what he +thought fit to do at Tours, saying, 'I make war, but the cause is +righteous. Never misjudge me, Jehane.' There were many reasons why +she should not answer this.</p> +<p>Returning to his deeds at Poietiers, I pick up the story from +the Abbot Milo, whom he found there. The Count, you may judge, kept +his own counsel. Milo was his confessor, but at this time Richard +was not in a confessing humour; therefore Milo had to gather +scandal as he could. There was very little difficulty about this. +'In the city of Tours,' he writes, 'in those middle days of Advent, +it appears that rumour, still gadding, was adrift with names almost +too high for the writing. There were many there who had no +business; the Count of Blois, for instance, the Baron of +Chateaudun, the fighting Bishop of Durham (I fear, a hireling +shepherd), Geoffrey Talebot, Hugh of Saint-Circ. One reason of this +was that King Henry was in England, not yet come to an agreement +with the French King, nor likely to it if what we heard was true, +yea, or a tenth part of it. God forbid that I should write what +these ears heard; but this I will say. It was I who told the +shocking tale to my lord Richard, adding also this hint, that his +former friend was involved in it, Eudo Count of Saint-Pol. If you +will believe me, not the tale of iniquity moved him; but he +received it with shut mouth, and eyes fixed upon mine. But at the +name of the Count of Saint-Pol he took a breath, at the mention of +his part in the business he took a deep breath, and when he heard +that this man was yet at Tours, he got up from his chair and struck +the table with his closed fist. Knowing him as I did, I considered +that the weather looked black for Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'Next day Count Richard moved his hosts out of the fields by +Poietiers to the very borders of his country, and calling a halt at +Saint-Gilles and making snug against alarms, himself, with my lord +Gaston of Béarn, with the Dauphin of Auvergne also, and the +Viscount of Béziers, crossed the march into Touraine, and so +came to Tours about a week before Christmas, the weather being +bright and frosty.'</p> +<p>It seems he did not take the abbot with him, for the rest of the +good man's record is full of morality, a certain sign that facts +failed him. There may have been reasons; at any rate the Count went +into Tours in a trenchant humour, with ears keen and wide for all +shreds of report. And he got enough and to spare. In the wet +market-place, on the flags of the great churchyard, by the pillars +of the nave, in the hall, in the chambers, in the inn-galleries; +wherever men met or women whispered in each other's necks, there +flew the names of Alois, King Philip's sister, and of King Henry, +Count Richard's father. Richard made short work, short and dry. It +was in mid-hall in the Bishop's palace, one day after dinner, that +he met and stopped the Count of Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'What now, beau sire?' says the Count, out of breath. Richard's +eyes were alight. 'This,' says he, 'that you lie in your +throat.'</p> +<p>Count Eudo looked about him, and everywhere saw the faces of men +risen from the board intent on him. 'Strange words, beau sire,' +says he, very white. Richard raised his voice till the metal rang +in it.</p> +<p>'But not strange doing, I think, on your part. This has been +going on, how long?'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol was stung. 'Ah, it becomes you very ill to reproach +me, my lord.'</p> +<p>'I think it becomes me excellently,' said Richard. 'You have +lied for a vile purpose; you have disgraced your name. You seek to +drive me by slander whither I may not go in honour. You lie like a +broker. You are a shameful liar.'</p> +<p>No man could stand this from another, however great that other; +and Saint-Pol was not a coward. He looked up at his adversary, +still white, but steady.</p> +<p>'How then?' he asked him, 'how then if I lie not, Count of +Poictou? And how if you know that I lie not?'</p> +<p>'Then,' said Richard, 'you use insult, which is worse.'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol took off his glove of mail and flung it with a clatter +on the floor.</p> +<p>'Since it has come to this, my lord—' Richard spiked the +glove with his sword, tossed it to the hammer-beams of the roof, +and caught it as it fell.</p> +<p>'It shall come nearer, Count, I take it.' Thus he finished the +other's phrase, then stalked out of the Bishop's house. It was then +and there that he wrote to Jehane that sixth letter, which she +received: 'I make war, but the cause is righteous. Never misjudge +me, Jehane.'</p> +<p>The end of it was a combat <i>à outrance</i> in the meads +by the Loire, with all Tours on the walls to behold it. Richard was +quite frank about the part he proposed to himself. 'The man must +die,' he told the Dauphin of Auvergne, 'even though he have spoken +the truth. As to that I am not sure, I am not yet informed. But he +is not fit to live on any ground. By these slanders of his he has +disgraced the name and outraged the honour of the most lovely lady +in the world, whose truest misfortune is to be his sister; by the +same token I must punish him for the dignity of the lady I am (at +present) designed to wed. She is always the daughter of his +liege-lord. What!'—he threw his head up—'Is not a +daughter of France worth a broken back?'</p> +<p>'Tu-dieu, yes,' says the Dauphin; 'but it is a stoutish back, +Richard. It is a back which ranks high. Kings clap it familiarly. +Conrad of Montferrat calls it a cousin's back. The Emperor has +embraced it at an Easter fair.'</p> +<p>'I would as soon break Conrad's back as his, Dauphin, believe +me,' Richard replied; 'but Conrad has said nothing. And there is +another reason.'</p> +<p>'I have thought myself of a reason against it,' the Dauphin said +quickly, yet with a flutter of timidity. 'This man's name is +Saint-Pol.'</p> +<p>Richard grew bleak in a moment. 'That,' he said, 'is why I shall +kill him. He seeks to drive us to marriage. Injurious beast! His +name is Pandarus.' Then he left the Dauphin and shut himself up +until the day of battle.</p> +<p>They had formed lists in the Loire meads: a red pavilion with +leopards upon it for the Count of Poictou, a blue pavilion streaked +with basilisks in silver for the Count of Saint-Pol. The crowd was +very great, for the city was full of people; in the tribune the +King of England's throne was left empty save for a drawn sword; but +one sat beside it as arbiter for the day of life and death, and +that was Prince John, Richard's brother, by Richard summoned from +Paris, and most unwillingly there. Bishop Hugh of Durham sat next +him, and marvelled to see the sweat glisten on his forehead on a +day when all the world else felt the north wind to their bones. +'Are you suffering, dear lord?' 'Eh, Bishop Hugh, Bishop Hugh, this +is a mad day for me!' 'By God,' thought Hugh of Durham, 'and so it +might prove, my man!'</p> +<p>They blew trumpets; and at the second sounding Saint-Pol, the +challenger, rode out on a big grey horse, himself in a hauberk of +chain mail with a coif of the same, and a casque wherein three grey +heron's feathers. This was the badge of the house: Jehane wore +heron's feathers. He had a blue surcoat and blue housings for his +horse. Behind him, esquire of honour, rode the young Amadeus of +Savoy, carrying his banner, a white basilisk on a blue field. +Saint-Pol was a burly man, bearing his honours squarely on breast +and back.</p> +<p>They sounded for the Count of Poictou, who came presently out of +his tent and lightly swung himself into the saddle—a feat +open to very few men armed in mail. As he came cantering down the +long lists no man could fail to mark the size and splendid ease he +had; but some said, 'He is younger by five years than Saint-Pol, +and not so stout a man.' He had a red plume above his leopard +crest, a white surcoat over his hauberk, with three red leopards +upon it. His shield was of the same blazon, so also the housings of +his horse. The Dauphin of Auvergne carried his banner. The two men +came together, saluted with ceremony, then turned with spears +uplift to the tribune, the throned sword, the sweating prince +beside it.</p> +<p>This one now rose up and caught at his chair, to give the +signal. 'Oh, Richard of Anjou, do thou on the body of Saint-Pol +what thy faith requires of thee; and do thou, Eudo, uphold the +right thou hast, in the name of God in Trinity and of our Lady.' +The Bishop of Tours blessed them both and the issue, they wheeled +apart, and the battle began. It was short, three careers long. At +the first shock Richard unhorsed his man; at the second he unhelmed +him with a deep flesh-furrow in the cheek; at the third he drove +down horse and man together and broke the Count's back. Saint-Pol +never moved again.</p> +<p>The moment it was over, in the silence of all, Prince John came +down from the tribune and fell upon Richard's neck. 'Oh, dearest +brother,' cried he, 'what should I have done if the worst had +befallen you? I cannot bear to think of it.'</p> +<p>'Oh, brother,' Richard said very quietly, 'I think you would +have borne it very well. You would have married Madame Alois, and +paid for a mass or two for me out of the dowry.'</p> +<p>This raking shot was heard by everybody. John grew red as fire. +'Why, what do you mean, Richard?' he stammered.</p> +<p>And Richard, 'Are my words so encumbered? Think them over, get +them by heart. So doing, be pleased to ride with me to Paris.' At +this the colour left John's face.</p> +<p>'Ah! To Paris?' He looked as if he saw death under a bush.</p> +<p>'That is where we must go,' said Richard, 'so soon as we have +prayed for that poor blind worm on the ground, who now haply sees +wherein he has offended.'</p> +<p>'Conrad of Montferrat, cousin of this dead, is there, Richard,' +said the other with intention; but Richard laughed.</p> +<p>'In a very good hour we shall find him. I have to give him news +of his cousin Saint-Pol. What is he there for?'</p> +<p>'It is in the matter of the kingdom of Jerusalem. He seeks +Sibylla and that crown, and is like to get them.'</p> +<p>'I think not, John, I think not. We will fill his head with +other thoughts; we will set it wanting mine. Your chance is a fair +one yet, brother.'</p> +<p>Prince John laughed, but not comfortably. 'Your tongue bites, +Richard.'</p> +<p>'Pooh,' says Richard, 'what else are you worth? I save my +teeth'; and went his ways.</p> +<p>In Paris Richard repaired to the tower of his kinsman the Count +of Angoulesme, but his brother to the Abbey of Saint-Germain. The +Poictevin herald bore word to King Philip-Augustus on Richard's +part; Prince John, as I suppose, bore his own word whither he had +most need for it to go. It is believed that he contrived to see +Madame Alois in private; and if that great purple cape that held +him in talk for nearly an hour by a windy corner of the +Prè-aux-Clercs did not cover the back of Montferrat, then +Gossip is a liar, Richard, for his part, took no account of John +and his shifts; a wave of disgust for the creeping youth had filled +the stronger man, and having got him into Paris there seemed +nothing better to do with him than to let him alone. But that +sensitive gorge of Richard's was one of his worst enemies: if he +did not mean to hold the snake in the stick, he had better not have +cleft the stick. As for John and his writhing, I am only half +concerned with them; but let me tell you this. Whatever he did or +did not sprang not from hatred of this or that man, but from fear, +or from love of his own belly. Every prince of the house of Anjou +loved inordinately some member of himself, some a noble member +nobly, and others basely a base member. If John loved his belly, +Richard loved his royal head: but enough. To be done with all this, +Richard was summoned to the French King hot-foot, within a day or +two of his coming; went immediately with his chaplain Anselm and +other one or two, and was immediately received. He had, in fact, +obeyed in such haste that he found two in the audience-chamber +instead of one. With Philip of France was Conrad of Montferrat, a +large, pale, ruminating Italian, full of bluster and thick blood. +The French King was a youth, just the age of Jehane, of the thin, +sharp, black-and-white mould into which had run the dregs of Capet. +He was smooth-faced like a girl, and had no need to shave; his lips +were very thin, set crooked in his face. So far as he was boy he +loved and admired Richard, so far as he was Capet he distrusted him +with all the rest of the world.</p> +<p>Richard knelt to his suzerain and was by him caught up and +kissed. Philip made him sit at his side on the throne. This put +Montferrat, who was standing, sadly out of countenance, for he +considered himself (as perhaps he was) the superior of any man +uncrowned.</p> +<p>It seems that some news had drifted in on the west wind. +'Richard, oh, Richard!' the King began, half whimsical and half +vexed, 'What have you been doing in Touraine?'</p> +<p>'Fair sire,' answered Richard, 'I have been doing what will, I +fear, give pain to our cousin Montferrat. I have been breaking the +back of the Count of Saint-Pol.' At this the Marquess, suffused +with dark blood till he was colour of lead, broke out, pointing his +finger as well as his words. As the bilge-water jets from a ketch +when the hold is surcharged, so did the Marquess jet his +expletives.</p> +<p>'Ha, sire! Ha, King of France! Now give me leave to break this +brigand's back, who robs and reviles in one breath. Touch of the +Gospel, is it to be borne?' Foaming with rage, he lunged forward a +step or two, his hand upon his long sword. Richard slowly got up +from the throne and stood his full height.</p> +<p>'Marquess, you use words I will not hear—'</p> +<p>King Philip broke in—'Fair lords, sweet lords—'; but +Richard put his hand up, having a kingly way with him which even +kings observed.</p> +<p>'Dear sire,'—his voice was level and cool—'let me +say my whole mind before the Marquess recovers his. The Count of +Saint-Pol, for beastly reasons, spoke in my hearing either true +things or false things concerning Madame Alois. If they were true I +was ready to die; if they were false I hope he was. Believing them +false, I had punished one man for them before; but he had them from +Saint-Pol. Therefore I called Saint-Pol a liar, and other proper +things. This gave him occasion to save his credit at the risk of +his back. He broke the one and I the other. Now I will hear the +Marquess.'</p> +<p>The Marquess tugged at his sword. 'And I, Count of +Poictou—'; but King Philip held out his sceptre, he too very +much a king.</p> +<p>'And we, Count of Poictou,' he said, 'command you by your +loyalty to tell us what Saint-Pol dared say of our sister Dame +Alois.' Although his thin boy's voice quavered, he seemed the more +royal for the human weakness. Richard was greatly moved, thawed in +a moment.</p> +<p>'God forgive me, Philip, but I cannot tell thee—' Pity +broke up his tones.</p> +<p>The young king almost whimpered: 'Oh, Richard, what is this?' +But Richard turned away his face. It was now the chance of the +great Italian.</p> +<p>'Now listen, King Philip,' he said, grim and square, 'and listen +you, Count of Poictou, whose account is to be quieted presently. Of +this business I happen to know something. If it serve not your +honour I cannot help it. It serves my murdered cousin's +honour—therefore listen.'</p> +<p>Richard's head was up. 'Peace, hound,' he said, and the Marquess +snarled like an old dog; but Philip, with a quivering lip, put out +his hand till it touched Richard's shoulder. 'I must hear it, +Richard,' he said. Richard put his arm round the lad's neck: so the +Marquess told his story. At the end of it Richard dared look down +into Philip's marred eyes. Then he kissed his forehead, and 'Oh, +Philip,' says he, 'let him who is hardy enough to tell this tale +believe it, and let us who hear it do as we must. But now you +understand why I made an end of Saint-Pol, and why, by heaven and +earth, I will make an end of this brass pot.' He turned upon +Montferrat with his teeth bare. 'Conrad, Conrad, Conrad!' he cried +terribly, 'mark your goings about this slippery world; for if when +I get you alone I do not send you quick into hell, may I go down +myself beyond redemption of the Church!'</p> +<p>'That you will surely do, my lord,' says the Marquess of +Montferrat, greatly disturbed.</p> +<p>'If I get you there also I shall be reasonably entertained for a +short time,' Richard answered, already cooled and ashamed of his +heat. Then King Philip dismissed the Marquess, and as soon as he +was rid of him jumped into Richard's arms, and cried his heart +away.</p> +<p>Richard, who was fond of the youth, comforted him as well as he +was able, but on one point was a rock. He would not hear the word +'marriage' until he had seen the lady. 'Oh, Richard, marry her +quick, marry her quick! So we can face the world,' the young King +had blubbered, thinking that course the simplest answer to the +affront upon his house. It did not seem so simple to the Count, or +(rather) it seemed too simple by half. In his private mind he knew +perfectly well that he could not marry Madame Alois. So, for that +matter, did King Philip by this time. 'I must see Alois, Philip, I +must see her alone,' was all Richard had to say; and really it +could not be gainsaid.</p> +<p>He went to her after proper warning, and saw the truth the +moment he had view of her. Then also he knew that he had really +seen it before. That white, furtive, creeping girl, from whose +loose hair peered out a pair of haunted eyes; that drooped thing +backing against the wall, feeling for it, flat against it, with +open shocked mouth, astare but seeing nothing: the whole truth +flared before him monstrously naked. He loathed the sight of her, +but had to speak her smoothly.</p> +<p>'Princess—' he said, and came forward to touch her hand; +but she slipped away from him, crouching to the wall. The torment +of breath in her bosom was bad to see.</p> +<p>'Touch me not, Count of Poictou;' she whispered the words, and +then moaned, 'O God, what will become of me?'</p> +<p>'Madame,' said Richard, rather dry, 'God may answer your +question, since He knows all things, but certainly I cannot, unless +you first tell me what has hitherto become of you.'</p> +<p>She steadied herself by the wall, her palms flat upon it, and +leaned her body forward like one who searches in a dark place. +Then, shaking her head, she let it fall to her breast. 'Is there +any sorrow like my sorrow?' says she to herself, as though he had +not been there.</p> +<p>Richard grew stern. 'So asked in His agony the Son of high God,' +he reproved her. 'If you dare ask Him that in His own words your +sorrow must be deep.'</p> +<p>She said, 'It is most deep.'</p> +<p>'But His,' said Richard, 'was bitter shame.' She said, 'And mine +is bitter.'</p> +<p>'But His was undeserved.' He spoke scorn; so then she lifted up +her head, and with eyes most piteous searched his face. 'But mine, +Richard,' she said, 'but mine is deserved.'</p> +<p>'The hearing is pertinent,' said Richard. 'As a son and man +affianced it touches me pretty close.'</p> +<p>Out of the hot and desperate struggle for breath, sounds came +from her, but no words. But she ran forward blindly, and kneeling, +caught him by the knees; he could not but find pity in his heart +for the witless poor wretch, who seemed to be fighting, not with +regret nor for need of his pity, but with some maggot in the brain +which drove her deeper into the fiery centre of the storm. Richard +did what he could. A religious man himself, he pointed her to the +Christ on the wall; but she waved it out of sight, shook her wild +hair back, and clung to him still, asking some unguessed mercy with +her eyes and sobbing breath. 'God help this tormented soul, for I +cannot,' he prayed; and said aloud, 'I will call your women; let me +go.' So he tried to undo her hands, but she clenched her teeth +together and held on with frenzy, whining, grunting, like some +pounded animal. Dumbly they strove together for a little panting +space of time.</p> +<p>'Ah, but you shall let me go,' he said then, much distressed, +and forcibly unknotted her mad hands. She fell back upon her heels, +and looked up at him. Such hopeless, grinning misery he had never +seen on a face before. He was certain now that she was out of her +wits.</p> +<p>Yet once again she brushed her hands over her face, as he had +seen her do before, like one who sweeps gossamers away on autumn +mornings; and though she was all in a shiver and shake with the +fever she had, she found her voice at last. 'Ah, thanks! Ah, my +thanks, O Christ my Saviour!' she sighed. 'O sweet Saviour Christ, +now I will tell him all the truth.'</p> +<p>If he had listened to her then it had been well for him. But he +did not. The struggle had fretted him likewise; if she was mad he +was maddened. He got angry where he should have been most patient. +'The truth, by heaven!' he snapped. 'Ah, if I have not had enough +of this truth!' And so he left her shuddering. As he went down the +long corridor he heard shriek after shriek, and then the scurrying +of many feet. Turning, he saw carried lights, women running. The +sounds were muffled, they had her safe. Richard went to his house +over the river, and slept for ten hours.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>OF THE CRACKLING OF THORNS UNDER POTS</h3> +<p>Just as no two pots will boil alike, so with men; they seethe in +trouble with a difference. With one the grief is taken inly: this +was Richard's kind. The French King was feverish, the Marquess +explosive, John of England all eyes and alarms. So Richard's remedy +for trouble was action, Philip's counsel, the Marquess's a glut of +hatred, and John's plotting. The consequence is, that in the +present vexed state of things Richard threw off his discontent with +his bedclothes, and at once took the lead of the others, because it +could be done at once. He declared open war against the King his +father, despatching heralds with the cartel the same day; he gave +King Philip to understand that the French power might be for him or +against him as seemed fitting, but that no power in heaven or on +earth would engage him to marry Dame Alois. King Philip, still +clinging to his friend, made a treaty of alliance with him against +Henry of England. That done, sealed and delivered, Richard sent for +his brother John. 'Brother,' he said, 'I have declared war against +my father, and Philip is to be of our party. In his name and my own +I am to tell you that one of two things you must do. You may stay +in our lands or leave them; but if you stay you must sign our +treaty of alliance.' Too definite for John, all this: he asked for +time, and Richard gave him till nightfall. At dusk he sent for him +again. John chose to stay in Paris. Then Richard thought he would +go home to Poictou. The moment his back was turned began various +closetings of the magnates left behind, with which I mean to +fatigue the reader as little as possible.</p> +<p>One such chamber-business I must record. To Paris in the black +February weather came pelting the young Count Eustace, now by his +brother's death Count of Saint-Pol. Misfortune, they say, makes of +one a man or a saint. Of Eustace Saint-Pol it had made a man. After +his homage done, this youth still kneeling, his hands still between +Philip's hands, looked fixedly into his sovereign's face, and 'A +boon, fair sire!' he said. 'A boon to your new man!'</p> +<p>'What now, Saint-Pol?' asked King Philip.</p> +<p>'Sire,' he said, 'my sister's marriage is in you. I beg you to +give her to Messire Gilles de Gurdun, a good knight of +Normandy.'</p> +<p>'That is a poor marriage for her, Saint-Pol,' said the King, +considering, 'and a poor marriage for me, by Saint Mary. Why should +I enrich the King of England, with whom I am at war? You must give +me reason for that.'</p> +<p>'I will give you this reason,' said young Saint-Pol; 'it is +because that devil who slew my brother will have her else.'</p> +<p>King Philip said, 'Why, I can give her to one who will hold her +fast. Your Gurdun is a Norman, you say? Well, but Count Richard in +a little while will have him under his hand; and how are you served +then?'</p> +<p>'I doubt, sire,' replied Saint-Pol. 'Moreover, there is this, if +it please you to hear it. When the Count of Poictou repudiated (as +he most villainously did) my sister, he himself gave her to Gurdun. +But I fear him, lest seeing her any other's he should take her +again.'</p> +<p>'What is this, man?' asked King Philip.</p> +<p>'Sire, he writes letters to my sister that he is a free man, and +she keeps them by her and often reads them in secret. So she was +caught but lately by my lady aunt, reading one in bed.'</p> +<p>The King's brow grew very black, for though he knew that Richard +would never marry Madame, he did not choose (but resented) that any +other should know it. At this moment Montferrat came in, and stood +by his kinsman.</p> +<p>'Ah, sire,' said he, in those bloodhound tones of his, 'give us +leave to deal in this business with free hands.'</p> +<p>'What would you do in it, Marquess?' asked the King +fretfully.</p> +<p>'Kill him, by God,' said the Marquess; and young Saint-Pol +added, 'Give us his life, O lord King.'</p> +<p>King Philip thought. He was fresh from making a treaty with +Richard; but that was in a war of requital only, and would be ended +so soon as the last drop had been drained from the old King. What +would follow the war? He was by this time cooler towards Richard, +very much vexed at what he had just heard; he could not help +remembering that marriage with Alois would have been the proper +reply to scandalous report. Should he be able, when the war was +done, to squeeze Richard into marriage or an equivalent in lands? +He wondered, he doubted greatly. On the other hand, if he and +Richard could crush old Henry, and Saint-Pol afterwards bruise +Richard—why, what was Philip but a gainer?</p> +<p>Chewing the fringe of his mantle as he considered this and +that,'If I give Madame Jehane in marriage to your Gurdun,' he said +dubiously, 'what will Gurdun do?'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol named the sum, a fair one.</p> +<p>'But what part will he take in the quarrel?' asked the King.</p> +<p>'He will take my part, as he is bound, sire.'</p> +<p>'Pest!' cried Philip, 'let us get at it. What is this part of +yours?'</p> +<p>'The part of him who has a blood-feud, my lord,' said young +Saint-Pol; and the Marquess said, 'That is my part also.'</p> +<p>'Have it according to your desires, my lords,' then said King +Philip. 'I give you this marriage. Make it as speedily as may be, +but let not Count Richard have news until it is done. There is a +fire, I tell you, hidden in that tall man. Remember this too, +Saint-Pol. You shall not make war on the side of England against +Richard, for that will be against me. Your feud must wait its turn. +For this present I have an account to settle in which Poictou is on +my side. Marquess, you likewise are in my debt. See to it that you +give my enemies no advantage.'</p> +<p>The Marquess and his cousin gave their words, holding up the +hilts of their swords before their faces.</p> +<p>Richard, in his city of Poictiers, was calmly forwarding his +plans. His first act, since he now considered himself perfectly +free, had been to send Gaston of Béarn with letters to +Saint-Pol-la-Marche; his second, seeing no reason why he should +wait for King Philip or any possible ally, to cross the frontier of +Touraine in force. He took castle after castle in that rich land, +clearing the way for the investiture of Tours, which was his first +great objective.</p> +<p>I leave him at this employment and follow Gaston on his way to +the North. It was early in March when that young man started, +squally, dusty weather; but perfect trobador as he was, the nature +of his errand warmed him; he composed a whole nosegay of scented +songs in honour of Richard and the crocus-haired lady of the March +who wore the broad girdle. Riding as he did through the realm of +France, by Chateaudun, Chartres, and Pontoise, he narrowly missed +Eustace of Saint-Pol, who was galloping the opposite way upon an +errand dead opposed to his own. Gaston would have fought him, of +course, but would have been killed to a certainty; for Saint-Pol +rode as became his lordship, with a company, and the other was +alone. He was spared any such mischance, however, and arrived in +the highest spirits, with an <i>alba</i> (song of the dawn) for +what he supposed to be Jehane's window. It shows what an eye he had +for a lady's chamber that he was very nearly right. A lady did put +her head out; not Jehane, but a rock-faced matron of vast +proportions with grey hair plastered to her cheeks.</p> +<p>'Behold, behold the dawn, my tender heart!' breathed Gaston.</p> +<p>'Out, you cockerel,' said the old lady, and Gaston wooed her in +vain. It appeared that she was an aunt, sworn to the service of the +Count, and had Jehane safe in a tower under lock and key. Gaston +retired into the woods to meditate. There he wrote five identic +notes to the prisoner. The first he gave to a boy whom he found +birds'-nesting. 'Take a turtle's nest, sweet boy,' said Gaston, 'to +my lady Jehane; say it is first-fruits of the year, and win a +silver piece. Beware of an old lady with a jaw like a flat-iron.' +The second he gave to a woodman tying billets for the Castle ovens; +the third a maid put in her placket, and he taught her the fourth +by heart in a manner quite his own and very much to her taste. With +the fifth he was most adroit. He demanded an interview with the +duenna, whose name was Dame Gudule. She accorded. Gaston spilled +his very soul out before her; he knelt to her, he kissed her large +velvet feet. The lady was touched, I mean literally, for Gaston as +he stooped fitted his fifth note into the braid of her ample skirt. +The only one to arrive was the boy's in the bird's nest. The boy +wanted his silver piece, and got it. So Jehane had another note to +cherish.</p> +<p>But she had to answer it first. It said, '<i>Vera Copia</i>. Ma +mye, I set on to the burden you gave me, but it failed of breaking +my back. I have punished some of the wicked, and have some still to +punish. When this is done I shall come to you. Wait for me. I +regret your brother's death. He deserved it. The fight was fair. +Learn of me from Gaston.—Richard of Anjou.' Her answer was +leaping in her heart; she led the boy to the window.</p> +<p>'Look down, boy, and tell me what you can see.'</p> +<p>'<i>Dame</i>!' said the boy, 'I see the moat, and ducks on +it.'</p> +<p>'Look again, dear, and tell me what you see.'</p> +<p>'I see an old fish on his back. He is dead.'</p> +<p>Jehane laughed quietly. 'He has been there many days. Tell the +knight who sent you to stand thereabout, looking up. Tell him not +to be there at any hour save that of mass, or vespers. Will you do +this, dear boy?'</p> +<p>'Certain sure,' said the boy. Jehane gave him money and a kiss, +then fastened herself to the window.</p> +<p>Gaston excelled in pantomime. Every day for a week he saw Jehane +at her window, and enacted many strange plays. He showed her the +old King stormy in his tent, the meagre white unrest of Alois, the +outburst at Autafort and Bertran de Born with his tongue out; the +meeting at Tours, the battle, the death of the Count her brother. +He was admirable on Richard's love-desires. There could be no doubt +at all about them. Pricked by his feats in this sort, Jehane +overcame her reserve and turned her members into marionettes. She +puffed her cheeks, hung her head, scowled upwards: there was Gilles +de Gurdun to the life. She looped finger and thumb of the right +hand and pierced them with the ring finger: ohè! her fate. +Gaston in reply to this drew his sword and ran a cypress-tree +through the body. Jehane shook a sorrowful head, but he waved all +such denials away with a hand so expressive that Jehane broke the +window and leaned her body out. Gaston uttered a cheerful cry.</p> +<p>Have no fear, lovely prisoner. If that is his intention he is +gone. I kill him. It is arranged.'</p> +<p>'My brother Eustace is in Paris,' says Jehane in a low but +carrying voice, 'to get my marriage from the King.'</p> +<p>'Again I say, fear nothing,' Gaston cried; but Jehane strained +out as far as she could.</p> +<p>'You must go away from here. The window is broken now, and they +will find me out. Take a message to my lord. If he is free indeed, +he knows me his in life or death. I seek to do him service. Wed or +unwed, what is that to me? I am still Jehane.'</p> +<p>'Your name is Red Heart, and Golden Rose, and Loiale Amye! +Farewell, Star of the North,' said Gaston on his knees. 'I seek +this Gurdun of yours.'</p> +<p>He found him after some days' perilous prowling of the Norman +march. Gilles had received the summons of his Duke to be <i>vi et +armis</i> at Rouen; a little later Gaston might have met him in the +field of broad battle, but such delay was not to his mind. He met +him instead in a woodland glade near Gisors, alone (by a great +chance), sword on thigh.</p> +<p>'Beef, thou diest,' said the Béarnais, peaking his beard. +Gilles made no reply that can be written, for what letters can +shape a Norman grunt? Perhaps 'Wauch!' comes nearest. They fought +on horseback, with swords, from noon to sunset, and having hacked +one another out of the similitude of men, there was nothing left +them to do but swoon side by side on the sodden leaves. In the +morning Gaston, unclogging one eye, perceived that his enemy had +gone. 'No matter,' said the spent hero to himself. 'I will wait +till he comes back, and have at him again.'</p> +<p>He waited an unconscionable time, a month in fact, during which +he delighted to watch the shy oncoming of a Northern spring, so +different from the sudden flooding of the South. He found the +wood-sorrel, he measured the crosiers of the brake, and saw the +blue mist of the hyacinth carpet the glades. All this charmed him +quite, until he learned, by hazard, that the Sieur de Gurdun was to +be married to Dame Jehane Saint-Pol on Palm Sunday in the church of +Saint Sulpice of Gisors. 'God ha' mercy!' he thought, with a stab +at the heart; 'there is merely time.' He rode South on the wind's +wings.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>HOW THEY HELD RICHARD OFF FROM HIS FATHER'S THROAT</h3> +<p>Long before the pink flush on the almond announced the earth a +bride, on all Gaulish roads had been heard the tramp of armed men, +the ring of steel on steel. This new war splintered Gaul. Aquitaine +held for Richard, who, though he had quelled and afterwards +governed that great duchy with an iron whip, had made himself +respected there. So the Count of Provence sent him a company, the +Count of Toulouse and Dauphin of Auvergne each brought a company; +from Périgord, from Bertram Count of Roussillon, from +Béarn, and (for reasons) from the wise King of Navarre, came +pikemen and slingers, and long-bowmen, and knights with their +esquires and banner-bearers. The Duke of Burgundy and Count of +Champagne came from the east to fill the battles of King Philip; in +the west the Countess of Brittany sent about the war-torch. All the +extremes of Gaul were in arms against the red old Angevin who sat +at her heart, who was now still snarling in England, and sending +message after secret message to his son John. That same John, alone +in Paris, headed no spears, partly because he had none of his own, +partly because he dared not declare himself openly. He had taken a +side, driven by his vehement brother; for the first time in his +life he had put pen to parchment. God knew (he thought) that was +committal enough. So he stayed in Paris, shifting his body about to +get comfort as the winds veered. Nobody inquired of him, least of +all his brother Richard, who, beyond requiring his signature, cared +little what he did with his person. This was characteristic of +Richard. He would drive a man into a high place and then forget +him. Reminded of his neglect, he would shrug and say, 'Yes. But he +is a fool.' Insufficient answer: he did not see or did not choose +to see that there are two sorts of fools. Stranded on his peak, one +man might be fool enough to stop there, another to try a descent. +Prince John (no fool either) was of this second quality. How he +tried to get down, and where else he tried to go, will be made +clear in time. You and I must go to the war in the west.</p> +<p>War showed Count Richard entered into his birthright. As a +strategist he was superb, the best of his time. What his eye took +in his mind snapped up—like a steel gin. And his eye was the +true soldier's eye, comprehending by signs, investing with life +what was tongueless else. Over great stretches of barren +country—that limitless land of France—he could see +massed men on the move; creeping forward in snaky columns, spread +fanwise from clump to woody clump; here camping snugly under the +hill, there lining the river bluffs with winged death; checked +here, helped there by a moraine—as well as you or I may +foresee the conduct of a chess-board. He omitted nothing, judged +times and seasons, reckoned defences at their worth, knew all the +fordable places by the lie of the land, timed cavalry and infantry +to rendezvous, forestalled communications, provided not only for +his own base, but against the enemy's. All this, of course, without +maps, and very much against the systems of his neighbours. It was +thus he had outwitted the heady barons of Aquitaine when little +more than a lad, and had turned the hill forts into death-traps +against their tenants. He had the secret of swift marching by +night, of delivering assault upon assault, so that while you +staggered under one blow you received another full. He could be as +patient as Death, that inchmeal stalker of his prey; he could be as +ruthless as the sea, and incredibly generous upon occasion. To the +men he led he was a father, known and beloved as such; it was as a +ruler they found him too lonely to be loved. In war he was the very +footboy's friend. Personally, when the battles joined, he was rash +to a fault; but so blithe, so ready, and so gracefully strong, that +to think of wounds upon so bright a surface was an impiety. No one +did think of them: he seemed to play with danger as a cat with +whirling leaves. 'I have seen him,' Milo writes somewhere, 'ride +into a serry of knights, singing, throwing up and catching again +his great sword Gaynpayn; then, all of a sudden, stiffen as with a +gush of sap in his veins, dart his head forward, gather his horse +together under him, and fling into the midst of them like a tiger +into a herd of bulls. One saw nothing but tossing steel; yet +Richard ever emerged, red but scatheless, on the further side.</p> +<p>Upon this man the brunt of war fell naturally: having begun, he +did not hold his hand. By the beginning of February he had laid his +plans, by the end of it he had taken Saumur, cut Angers off from +Tours, and turned all the valley of the Loire into a scorched +cinder-bed. In the early days of March he sat down before Tours +with his siege-engines, petraries, mangonels, and towers, and daily +battered at the walls, with intent to reduce it before the war was +really afloat. The city of Saint Martin was doomed; no help from +Anjou could save it, for none could come that way. Meantime the +King his father had landed at Honfleur, assembled his Normans at +Rouen, and was working his way warily down through the duchy, +feeling for the French on his left, and for the Bretons on his +right. He never found the French; they were far south of him, +pushing through Orleans to join Richard at Le Mans. But the +Countess of Brittany's men, under Hugh of Dinan, were sacking +Avranches when old Henry heard the bad news from Touraine. That +country and Maine were as the apple of his eye; yet he dared not +leave Avranches fated behind him. All he could do was to send +William the Marshal with a small force into Anjou, while he himself +spread out westward to give Hugh of Dinan battle and save +Avranches, if that might be. So it was that King Philip slipped in +between him and Le Mans. By this time Richard was master of Tours, +and himself on the way to Le Mans, nosing the air for William the +Marshal. This was in the beginning of April. Then on one and the +same day he risked all he had won for the sake of a girl's proud +face, and nearly lost his life into the bargain.</p> +<p>He had to cross the river Aune above La Flèche. That +river, a sluggish but deep little stream, moves placidly among +osiers on its way to swell the Loire. On either side the +water-meadows stretch for three-quarters of a mile; low +chalk-hills, fringed at the top, are ramparts to the sleepy valley. +Creeping along the eastern spurs at dawn, Richard came in touch +with his enemy, William the Marshal and his force of Normans and +English. These had crossed the bridge at La Flèche, and came +pricking now up the valley to save Le Mans. Heading them boldly, +Richard threw out his archers like a waterspray over the flats, and +while these checked the advance and had the van in confusion, +thundered down the slopes with his knights, caught the Marshal on +the flank, smote him hip and thigh, and swept the core of his army +into the river. The Marshal's battle was thus destroyed; but the +wedge had made too clean a cleft. Front and rear joined up and +held; so Richard found himself in danger. The Viscount of +Béziers, who led the rearguard, engaged the enemy, and +pushed them slowly back towards the Aune; Richard wheeled his men +and charged, to take them in the rear. His horse, stumbling on the +rotten ground, fell badly and threw him: there were cries, +'Holà! Count Richard is down!' and some stayed to rescue and +some pushed on. William the Marshal, on a white horse, came +suddenly upon him as he lay. 'Mort de dieu!' shrilled this good +soldier, and threw up his spear arm. 'God's feet, Marshal, kill one +or other of us!' said Richard lightly: he was pinned down by his +struggling beast. 'I leave you to the devil, my lord Richard,' said +the Marshal, and drove his spear into the horse's chest. The +beast's death-plunge freed his master. Richard jumped up: even on +foot his head was level with the rider's shield. 'Have at you now!' +he cried; but the Marshal shook his head, and rode after his flying +men. The day was with Poictou, Le Mans must fall.</p> +<p>It fell, but not yet; nor did Richard see it fall. Gaston of +Béarn joined his master the next day. 'Hasten, hasten, fair +lord!' he cried out as soon as he saw him. Richard looked as if he +had never known the word.</p> +<p>'What news of Normandy, Gaston?'</p> +<p>'The English are through, Richard. The country swarms with them. +They hold Avranches, and now are moving south.'</p> +<p>'They are too late,' said Richard. 'Tell me what message you +have from the Fair-Girdled.'</p> +<p>'Wed or unwed, she is yours. But she is kept in a tower until +Palm Sunday. Then they bring her out and marry her to what remains +of a black Normandy pig. Not very much remains, but (they tell me) +enough for the purpose.'</p> +<p>'Spine of God,' said Richard, examining his finger-nails.</p> +<p>'Swear by His heart, rather, my Count,' Gaston said, 'for you +have a red heart in your keeping. Eh, eh, what a beautiful person +is there! She leaned her body out of the window—what a shape +that girdle confines! Bowered roses! Dian and the Nymphs! Bosomed +familiars of old Pan! And what emerald fires! What molten hair! The +words came shortly from her, and brokenly, as if her carved lips +disdained such coarse uses! Richard, her words were so: "Take a +message to my lord," quoth she. "I am his in life or death. I seek +to do him service. Wed or unwed, what is that to me? I am still +Jehane." Thus she—but I? Well, well, my sword spake for me +when I carved that beef-bone bare.' The Béarnais pulled his +goatee, and looked at the ends of it for split hairs. But Richard +sat very still.</p> +<p>'Do you know, Gaston, whom you have seen?' he said presently, in +a trembling whisper.</p> +<p>'Perfectly well,' said the other. 'I have seen a pale flower +ripe for the sun.'</p> +<p>'You have seen the Countess of Poictou, Gaston,' said Richard, +and took to his prayers.</p> +<p>Through these means, for the time, he was held off his father's +throat. But for Jehane and her urgent affairs these two had +grappled at Le Mans. As it was, not Richard's hand was to fire the +cradle-city which had seen King Henry at the breast. Before +nightfall he had made his dispositions for a very risky business. +He set aside the Viscount of Béziers, Bertram Count of +Roussillon, Gaston of Béarn, to go with him, not because +they were the best men by any means, but so that he might leave the +best men in charge. These were certainly the Dauphin, the Viscount +of Limoges, and the Count of Angoulesme, each of whom he had proved +as an enemy in his day. 'Gentlemen,' he said to these three, 'I am +about to go upon a journey. Of you I shall require a little +attention, certain patience, exact obedience. It will be necessary +that you be before the walls of Le Mans in three days. Invest them, +my lords, keep up your communications, and wait for the French +King. Give no battle, offer no provocation, let hunger do your +affair. I know where the King of England is, and shall be with you +before him.' He went on to be more precise, but I omit the details. +It was difficult for them to go wrong, but if the truth is to be +known, he was in a mood which made him careless about that. He was +free. He was going on insensate adventure; but he saw his road +before him once again, like a long avenue of light, which Jehane +made for him with a torch uplifted. Before it was day, armed from +head to foot in chain mail, with a plain shield, and a +double-bladed Norman axe in his saddle-bucket, he and his three +companions set out on their journey. They rode leisurely, with +loose reins and much turning in the saddle to talk, as if for a +meet of the hounds.</p> +<p>Now was that vernal season of the year when winds are boon, the +gentle rain never far off, the stars in heaven (like the flowers on +earth) washed momently to a freshness which urges men to be pure. +Riding day and night through the green breadth of France, though he +had been plucked from the roaring pit of war, Richard (I know) went +with a single aim before him—to see Jehane again. Nothing +else in his heart, I say. Whatever purpose may have lurked in his +mind, in heart he went clean, single in desire, chanting the +canticles of Mary and the Virgin Saints. It was so. He had been +seethed in wicked doings from his boyhood—I give him you no +better than he was: wild work in Poictou, the scour of hot blood; +devil's work in Touraine, riotous work in Paris, tyrannous in +Aquitaine. He had been blown upon by every ill report; hatred +against blood, blasphemy against God's appointment, violence, +clamour, scandal against charitable dealing: all these were laid to +his name. He had behind him a file of dead ancestors, cut-throats +and worse. He had faced unnameable sin and not blenched, laughed +where he should have wept, promised and broken his promise; to be +short, he had been a creature of his house and time, too young +acquainted with pride and too proud himself to deny it. But now, +with eyes alight like a boy's because his heart was uplift, he was +riding between the new-budded woods, the melodies of a singing-boy +on his lips, and swaying before his heart's eye the figure of a +tall girl with green eyes and a sulky, beautiful mouth. 'Lord, what +is man?' cried the Psalmist in dejection. 'Lord, what is man not?' +cry we, who know more of him.</p> +<p>His traverse took him four days and nights. He rested at La +Ferté, at Nogent-le-Rotrou, outside Dreux, and at Rosny. +Here he stayed a day, the Vigil of the Feast of Palms. He had it in +his mind not to see Jehane again until the very moment when he +might lose her.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>WILD WORK IN THE CHURCH OF GISORS</h3> +<p>When in March the chase is up, and the hunting wind searches out +the fallow places of the earth, love also comes questing, desire is +awake; man seeks maid, and maid seeks to be sought. If man or maid +have loved already the case is worse; we hear love crying, but +cannot tell where he is, how or with what honesty to let him in. +All those ranging days Jehane—whether in bed cuddling her +letters, or at the window of her tower, watching with brimmed eyes +the pairing of the birds—showed a proud front of sufferance, +while inly her heart played a wild tune. Not a crying girl, nor one +capable of any easy utterance, she could do no more than stand +still, and wonder why she was most glad when most wretched. She +ought to have felt the taint, to love the man who had slain her +brother; she might have known despair: she did neither. She sat or +stood, or lay in her bed, and pressed to her heart with both hands +the words that said, 'Never doubt me, Jehane,' or 'Ma mye, I shall +come to you.' When he came, as he surely would, he would find her a +wife—ah, let him come, let him come in his time, so only she +saw him again!</p> +<p>March went out in dusty squalls, and April came in to the sound +of the young lamb's bleat. Willow-palm was golden in the hedges +when the King of England's men filled Normandy, and Gilles de +Gurdun, having been healed of his wounds, rode towards Rouen at the +head of his levy. He went not without an understanding with +Saint-Pol that he should have his sister on Palm Sunday in the +church of Gisors. They could not marry at Saint-Pol-la-Marche, +because Gilles was on his service and might not win so far; nor +could they have married before he went, because of his +ill-treatment at the hands of the Béarnais. Of this Gilles +had made light. 'He got worse than he gave,' he told Saint-Pol. 'I +left him dead in the wood.'</p> +<p>'Would you see Jehane, Gilles?' Saint-Pol had asked him before +he went out. 'She is in her turret as meek as a mouse.'</p> +<p>'Time enough for that,' said Gilles quietly. 'She loves me not. +But I, Eustace, love her so hot that I have fear of myself. I think +I will not see her.'</p> +<p>'As you will,' said Saint-Pol. 'Farewell.'</p> +<p>In Gisors, then a walled town, trembling like a captive at the +knees of a huge castle, there was a long grey church which called +Saint Sulpice lord. It stood in a little square midway between the +South Gate and the citadel, a narrow oblong place where they held +the cattle market on Tuesdays, flagged and planted with +pollard-limes. The west door of Saint Sulpice, resting on a stepped +foundation, formed a solemn end to this humble space, and the great +gable flanked by turrets threatened the huddled tenements of the +craftsmen. On this morning of Palm Sunday the shaven crowns of the +limes were budded gold and pink, the sky a fair sea-blue over +Gisors, with a scurrying fleece of clouds like foam; the poplars +about the meadows were in their first flush, all the quicksets +veiled in green. The town was early afoot, for the wedding party of +the Sieur de Gurdun was to come in; and Gurdun belonged to the +Archbishop, and the Archbishop to the Duke. The bride also was +reported unwilling, which added zest to the public appetite for her +known beauty. Some knew for truth that she was the cast-off +mistress of a very great man, driven into Gurdun's arms to dispose +of scandal and of her. 'Eh, the minion!' said certain sniggering +old women to whom this was told, 'she'll not find so soft a lap at +Gurdun!' But others said, 'Gurdun is the Duke's, and will one day +be the Duke's son's. What will Sieur Gilles do then with his +straining wife? You cannot keep your hawk on the cadge for +ever—ah, nor hood her for ever!' And so on.</p> +<p>All this points to some public excitement. The town gate was +opened full early, the booths about it did a great trade; at a +quarter before seven Sir Gilles de Gurdun rode in, with his father +on his right hand, the prior of Rouen on his left, and half a dozen +of his kindred, fair and solid men all. They were lightly armed, +clothed in soft leather, without shields or any heavy +war-furniture: old Gurdun a squarely built, red-faced man like his +son, but with a bush of white hair all about his face, and eyebrows +like curved snowdrifts; the prior (old Gurdun's brother's son) with +a big nose, long and pendulous; Gilles' brother Bartholomew, and +others whom it would be tedious to mention. Gilles himself looked +well knit for the business in hand; all the old women agreed that +he would make a masterful husband. They stabled their horses in the +inn-yard, and went into the church porch to await the bride's +party.</p> +<p>A trumpet at the gate announced her coming. She rode on a little +ambling horse beside her brother Saint-Pol. With them were the +portentous old lady, Dame Gudule, William des Barres, a very fine +French knight, Nicholas d'Eu, and a young boy called Eloy de +Mont-Luc, a cousin of Jehane's, to bear her train. The gossips at +the gate called her a wooden bride; others said she was like a +doll, a big doll; and others that they read in her eyes the scorn +of death. She took no notice of anything or anybody, but looked +straight before her and followed where she was led. This was +straightway into the church by her brother, who had her by the hand +and seemed in a great hurry. The marriage was to be made in the +Lady Chapel, behind the high altar.</p> +<p>Twenty minutes later yet, or maybe a little less, there was +another surging to the gate about the arrival of four knights, who +came posting in, spattered with mud and the sweat and lather of +their horses. They were quite unknown to the people of Gisors, but +seen for great men, as indeed they were. Richard of Anjou was the +first of them, a young man of inches incredible to Gisors. 'He had +a face like King Arthur's of Britain,' says one: 'A red face, a +tawny beard, eyes like stones.' Behind him were three abreast: +Roussillon, a grim, dark, heavy-eyed man, bearded like a Turk; +Béziers, sanguine and loose-limbed, a man with a sharp +tongue; Gaston of Béarn, airy hunter of fine phrases, +looking now like the prince of a fairy-tale, with roving eyes all +a-scare for adventure. The warders of the gate received them with a +flourish. They knew nothing of them, but were certain of their +degree.</p> +<p>By preconcerted action they separated there. Roussillon and +Béziers sat like statues within the gate, one on each side +of the way, actually upon the bridge; and so remained, the admired +of all the booths. Gaston, like a yeoman-pricker in this hunting of +the roe, went with Richard to the edge of the covert, that is, to +the steps of Saint Sulpice, and stood there holding his master's +horse. What remained to be done was done with extreme swiftness. +Richard alone, craning his head forward, stooping a little, swaying +his scabbarded sword in his hand, went with long soft strides into +the church.</p> +<p>At the entry he kneeled on one knee, and looked about him from +under his brows. Three or four masses were proceeding; out of the +semi-darkness shone the little twinkling lights, and illuminated +faintly the kneeling people, a priest's vestment, a silver chalice. +But here was neither marriage nor Jehane. He got up presently, and +padded down the nave, kneeling to every altar as he went. Many an +eye followed him as he pushed on and past the curtain of the +ambulatory. They guessed him for the wedding, and so (God knows) he +was. In the shadow of a great pillar he stopped short, and again +went down on his knee; from here he could see the business in +train.</p> +<p>He saw Jehane at prayer, in green and white, kneeling at her +faldstool like a painted lady on an altar tomb; he just saw the +pure curve of her cheek, the coiled masses of her hair, which +seemed to burn it. All the world with the lords thereof was at his +feet, but this treasure which he had held and put away was denied +him. By his own act she was denied. He had said Yea, when Nay had +been the voice of heart and head, of honour and love and reason at +once; and now (close up against her) he knew that he was to forbid +his own grant. He knew it, I say; but until he saw her there he had +not clearly known it. Go on, I will show you the deeps of the man +for good or bad. Not lust of flesh, but of dominion, ravened in +him. This woman, this Jehane Saint-Pol, this hot-haired slip of a +girl was his. The leopard had laid his paw upon her shoulder, the +mark was still there; he could not suffer any other beast of the +forest to touch that which he had printed with his own mark, for +himself.</p> +<p>Twi-form is the leopard; twi-natured was Richard of Anjou, dog +and cat. Now here was all cat. Not the wolf's lust, but the lion's +jealous rage spurred him to the act. He could see this beautiful +thing of flesh without any longing to lick or tear; he could have +seen the frail soul of it, but half-born, sink back into the earth +out of sight; he could have killed Jehane or made her as his mother +to him. But he could not see one other get that which was his. His +by all heaven she was. When Gurdun squared himself and puffed his +cheeks, and stood up; when Jehane, touched by Saint-Pol on the +shoulder, shivered and left staring, and stood up in turn, swaying +a little, and held out her thin hand; when the priest had the ring +on his book, and the two hands, the red and the white, trembled to +the touch—Richard rose from his knee and stole forward with +his long, soft, crouching stride.</p> +<p>So softly he trod that the priest, old and blear-eyed as he was, +saw him first: the others had heard nothing. With Jehane's hand in +his own, the priest stopped and blinked. Who was this prowler, +afoot when all else were on their knees? His jaw dropped; you saw +that he was toothless. Inarticulate sounds, crackling and dry, came +from his throat. Richard had stopped too, tense, quivering for a +spring. The priest gave a prodigious sniff, turned to his book, +looked up again: the crouching man was still there—but +imminent. 'Wine of Jesus!' said the priest, and dropped Jehane's +hand. Then she turned. She gave a short cry; the whole assembly +started and huddled together as the mailed man made his spring.</p> +<p>It was done in a flash. From his crouched attitude he went, as +it seemed, at one bound. That same shock drove Gilles de Gurdun +back among his people, and the same found Jehane caged in a hoop of +steel. So he affronting and she caught up stood together, for a +moment. With one mailed hand he held her fast under the armpit, +with the other he held a fidgety sword. His head was thrown back; +through glimmering eyelids he watched them—as one who says, +What next?—breathing short through his nose. It was the +attitude of the snatching lion, sudden, arrogant, shockingly swift; +a gross deed, done in a flash which was its wonderful beauty. While +the company was panting at the shock—for barely a +minute—he stood thus; and Jehane, quiet under so fierce a +hold, leaned not upon him, but stood her own feet fairly, her calm +brows upon a level with his chin. Shameful if it was, at that +moment of rude conquest she had no shame, and he no thought of +shame.</p> +<p>Nor was there much time for thought at all. Gurdun cried on the +name of God and started forward; at the same instant Saint-Pol made +a rush, and with him Des Barres. Richard, with Jehane held close, +went backwards on the way he had come in. His long arm and long +sword kept his distance; he worked them like a scythe. None tackled +him there, though they followed him up as dogs a boar in the +forest; but old Gurdun, the father, ran round the other way to hold +the west door. Richard, having gained the nave and open country (as +it were), went swiftly down it, carrying Jehane with ease; he found +the strenuous old man before the door. 'Out of my way, De Gurdun,' +he cried in a high singing voice, 'or I shall do that which I shall +be sorry for.'</p> +<p>'Bloody thief,' shouted old Gurdun, 'add murder to the rest!' +Richard stretched his sword arm stiffly and swept him aside. He +tumbled back; the crowd received him—priests, choristers, +peasants, knights, all huddled together, baying like dogs. Count +Richard strode down the steps.</p> +<p>'Alavi! Alavia!' sang Gaston, 'this is a swift marriage!' +Richard, cooler than circumstances warranted, set Jehane on his +saddle, vaulted up behind her, and as his pursuers were tumbling +down the steps, cantered over the flags into the street. Roussillon +and Béziers, holding the bridge, saw him come. 'He has +snatched his Sabine woman,' said Béziers. 'Humph,' said +Roussillon; 'now for beastly war.' Richard rode straight between +them at a hand-gallop; Gaston followed close, cheering his beast +like a maniac. Then the iron pair turned inwards and rode out +together, taking the way he led them, the way of the Dark +Tower.</p> +<p>The wonder of Gisors was all dismay when it was learned who this +tall stranger was. The Count of Poictou had ridden into his +father's country and robbed his father's man of his wife. We are +ruled by devils in Normandy, then! There was no immediate pursuit. +Saint-Pol knew where to find him; but (as he told William des +Barres) it was useless to go there without some force.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>NIGHT-WORK BY THE DARK TOWER</h3> +<p>I chronicle wild doings in this place, and have no time for the +sweets of love long denied. But strange as the bridal had been, so +the nuptials were strange, one like the other played to a steel +undertone. When Richard had his Jehane, at first he could not enjoy +her. He rode away with her like a storm; the way was long, the pace +furious. Not a word had passed between them, at least not a +reasoned word. Once or twice at first he leaned forward over her +shoulder and set his cheek to her glowing cheek. Then she, as if +swayed by a tide, strained back to him, and felt his kisses hot and +eager, his few and pelting words, 'My bride—at last—my +bride!' and the pressure of his hand upon her heart. That hand +knows what tune the heart drummed out. Mostly she sat up before him +stiff as a sapling, with eyes and ears wide for any hint of +pursuit. But he felt her tremble, and knew she would be glad of him +yet.</p> +<p>After all, they had six burning days for a honeymoon, days which +made those three who with them held the tower wonder how such a +match could continue. Richard's love rushed through him like a +river in flood, that brims its banks and carries down bridges by +its turbid mass; but hers was like the sea, unresting, ebbing, +flowing, without aim or sure direction. As is usual with reserved +persons, Jehane's transports, far from assuaging, tormented her, or +seemed a torment. She loved uneasily, by hot and cold fits; now +melting, now dry, now fierce in demand, next passionate in refusal. +To snatch of love succeeded repulsion of love. She would fling +herself headlong into Richard's arms, and sob there, feverish; +then, as suddenly, struggle for release, as one who longs to hide +herself, and finding that refused, lie motionless like a woman of +wax. Whether embraced or not, out of touch with him she was +desperate. She could not bear that, but sought (unknown to him) to +have hold of some part of him—the edge of his tunic, the tip +of his sword, his glove—something she must have. Without it +she sat quivering, throbbing all over, looking at him from under +her brows and biting her dumb lips. If at such a time as this some +other addressed her the word (as, to free her from her anguish, one +would sometimes do), she would perhaps answer him, Yes or No, but +nothing more. Usually she would shake her head impatiently, as if +all the world and its affairs (like a cloud of flies) were buzzing +about her, shutting out sound or sight of her Richard. Love like +this, so deep, outwardly still, inwardly ravening (because +insatiable), is a dreadful thing. No one who saw Jehane with +Richard in those days could hope for the poor girl's happiness. As +for him, he was more expansive, not at all tortured by love, master +of that as of everything else. He teased her after the first day, +pinched her ear, held her by the chin. He used his strange powers +against her; stole up on his noiseless feet, caught her hands +behind her, held her fast, and pulled her back to be kissed. Once +he lifted her up, a sure prisoner, to the top shelf of a cupboard, +whence there was no escape but by the way she had gone. She stayed +there quite silent, and when he opened the cupboard doors was found +in the same tremulous, expectant state, her eyes still fixed upon +him. Neither he nor she, publicly at least, discussed the past, the +present or future; but it was known that he meant to make her his +Countess as soon as he could reach Poictiers. To the onlookers, at +any rate to one of them, it seemed that this could never be, and +that she knew very well that the hours of this sharp, sweet, +piercing intercourse were numbered. How could it last? How could +she find either reason or courage to hope it? It seemed to +Béziers, on the watch, that she was awaiting the end +already. One is fretted to a rag by waiting. So Jehane dared not +lose a moment of Richard, yet could enjoy not one, knowing that she +must soon lose all.</p> +<p>Those six clear days of theirs had been wiselier spent upon the +west road; but Richard's desire outmastered every thought. Having +snatched Jehane from the very horns of the altar, he must hold her, +make her his irrevocably at the first breathing place. Dealing with +any but Normans, he had never had his six days. But the Norman +people, as Abbot Milo says, 'slime-blooded, slow-bellies, are +withal great eaters of beef, which breeds in them, as well as a +heaviness of motion, a certain slumbrous rage very dangerous to +mankind. They crop grief after grief, chewing the cud of grievance; +for when they are full of it they disgorge and regorge the abhorred +sum, and have stuff for their spleens for many a year.' Even more +than this smouldering nursed hate they love a punctilio; they walk +by forms, whether the road is to a lady's heart or an enemy's +throat. And so Saint-Pol found, and so Des Barres, Frenchmen both +and fiery young men, who shook their fists in the faces of the +Gurduns and the dust of such blockish hospitallers off their feet, +when they saw the course affairs were to run. Gilles de Gurdun, if +you will believe it, with the advice of his father and the +countenance of his young brother Bartholomew, would not budge an +inch towards the recovery of his wife or her ravisher's punishment +until he had drawn out his injury fair on parchment. This he then +proposed to carry to his Duke, old King Henry. 'Thus,' said the +swart youth, 'I shall be within the law of my land, and gain the +engines of the law on my side.' He seemed to think this +important.</p> +<p>'With your accursed scruples,' cried Saint-Pol, smiting the +table, 'you will gain nothing else. Within your country's law, +blockhead! Why, my sister is within the Count's country by this +time!'</p> +<p>'Oh, leave him, leave him, Eustace,' said Des Barres, 'and come +with me. We shall meet him in the fair way yet, you and I +together.' So the Frenchmen rode away, and Gilles, with his father +and his parchments and his square forehead, went to Evreux, where +King Henry then was. Kneeling before their Duke, expounding their +gravamens as if they were suing out a writ of <i>Mort +d'Ancestor</i>, they very soon found out that he was no more a +Norman than Saint-Pol. The old King made short work of their '<i>ut +predictum ests</i>' and '<i>Quaesumus igiturs</i>.'</p> +<p>'Good sirs,' says he, knitting his brows, 'where is this lord +who has done you so much injury?'</p> +<p>'My lord,' they report, 'he has her in his strong tower on the +plain of Saint-André, some ten leagues from here.'</p> +<p>Then cries the old King, 'Smoke him out, you fools! What! a +badger. Draw the thief.'</p> +<p>Then Gilles the elder flattened his lips together and afterwards +pursed them. 'Lord,' he said, 'that we dare not do without your +express commandment.'</p> +<p>'Why, why,' snaps the King, 'if I give it you, my solemn +fools?'</p> +<p>Young Gilles stood up, a weighty youth. 'Lord Duke,' he said, +'this lord is the Count of Poictou, your son.' It had been a fine +sight for sinful men to see the eyes of the old King strike fire at +this word. His speech, they tell me, was terrible, glutted with +rage.</p> +<p>'Ha, God!' he spluttered, cracking his fingers, 'so my Richard +is the badger, ha? So then I have him, ha? If I do not draw him +myself, by the Face!'</p> +<p>It is said that Longespée (a son of his by Madame +Rosamund) and Geoffrey (another bastard), with Bohun and De Lacy +and some more, tried to hinder him in this design, wherein (said +they) he set out to be a second Thyestes; but they might as well +have bandied words with destiny. 'War is war,' said the foaming old +man, 'whether with a son or a grandmother you make it. Shall my +enemy range the field and I sit at home and lap caudle? That is not +the way of my house.' He would by all means go that night, and +called for volunteers. His English barons, to their credit, flatly +refused either to entrap the son of their master or to abandon the +city at a time so critical. 'What, sire!' cried they, 'are private +resentments, like threadworms, to fret the dams of the state? The +floods are out, my lord King, and brimming at the sluices. Be +advised therefore.'</p> +<p>No wearer of the cap of Anjou was ever advised yet. I can hear +in fancy the gnashing of the old lion's fangs, in fancy see the +foam he churned at the corners of his mouth. He went out with such +men as he could gather in his haste, nineteen of them in all. There +were old Gilles and young Gilles with their men; eight of the +King's own choosing, namely, Drago de Merlou, Armand Taillefer, the +Count of Ponthieu, Fulk Perceforest, Fulk D'Oilly, Gilbert +FitzReinfrid, Ponce the bastard of Caen, and a butcher called Rolf, +to whom the King, mocking all chivalry, gave the gilt spurs before +he started. He did not wear them long. The nineteenth was that +great king, bad man, and worse father, Henry Curtmantle +himself.</p> +<p>It was a very dark night, without moon or stars, a hot and still +night wherein a man weather-wise might smell the rain. The going +upon the moor was none too good in a good light; yet they tell me +that the old King went spurring over brush and scrub, over tufted +roots, through ridge and hollow, with as much cheer as if the hunt +was up in Venvil Wood and himself a young man. When his followers +besought him to take heed, all he would do was snap his fingers, +the reins dangling loose, and cry to the empty night, 'Hue, Brock, +hue!' as if he was baiting a badger. This badger was the heir to +his crown and dignity.</p> +<p>In the Dark Tower they heard him coming three miles away. +Roussillon was on the battlements, and came down to report horsemen +on the plain. 'Lights out,' said Richard, and gave Jehane a kiss as +he set her down. They blew out all the lights, and stood two to +each door; no one spoke any more. Jehane sat by the darkened fire +with a torch in her hand, ready to light it when she was bid.</p> +<p>Thus when the Normans drew near they found the tower true to its +name, without a glimmer of light. 'Let alone for that,' said the +King, whose grating voice they heard above all the others; 'very +soon we will have a fire.' He sent some of his men to gather +brushwood, ling, and dead bracken; meantime he began to beat at the +door with his axe, crying like a madman, 'Richard! Richard! Thou +graceless wretch, come out of thy hold.'</p> +<p>Presently a little window-casement opened above him; Gaston of +Béarn poked out his head.</p> +<p>'Beau sire,' he says, 'what entertainment is this for the Count +your son?'</p> +<p>'No son of mine, by the Face!' cried the King. 'Let that woman I +have caged at home answer for him, who defies me for ever. Let me +in, thou sickly dog.'</p> +<p>Gaston said, 'Beau sire, you shall come in if you will, and if +you come in peace.'</p> +<p>Says the King, 'I will come in, by God, and as I will.'</p> +<p>'Foul request, King,' said Gaston, and shut the window.</p> +<p>'Have it as you will; it shall be foul by and by,' the King +shouted to the night. He bid them fire the place.</p> +<p>To be short, they heaped a wood-stack before the door and set it +ablaze. The crackling, the tossed flames, the leaping light, made +the King drunk. He and his companions began capering about the fire +with linked arms, hounding each other on with the cries of +countrymen who draw a badger—'Loo, loo, Vixen! Slip in, lass! +Hue, Brock, hue, hue!' and similar gross noises, until for very +shame Gilles and his kindred drew apart, saying to each other, 'We +have let all hell loose, Legion and his minions.' So the two +companies, the grievous and the aggrieved, were separate; and +Richard, seeing this state of the case, took Roussillon and +Béziers out by the other door, got behind the dancers, +attacked suddenly, and drove three of them into the fire. 'There,' +says the chronicler, 'the butcher Sir Rolf got a taste of his +everlasting torments, there FitzReinfrid lay and charred; there +Ponce of Caen, ill born, made a foul smoke as became him.' Turning +to go in again, the three were confronted with the Norman +segregates. Great work ensued by the light of the fire. Gilles the +elder was slain with an axe, and if with an axe, then Richard slew +him, for he alone was so armed. Gilles the younger was wounded in +the thigh, but that was Roussillon's work; his brother Bartholomew +was killed by the same terrific hitter; Béziers lost a +finger of his sword hand, and indeed the three barely got in with +their lives. The old King set up howling like a wolf in famine at +this loss; what comforted him was that the fire had eaten up the +southern door and disclosed the entry of the tower—Jehane +holding up a torch, and before her Gaston, Richard, and Bertram of +Roussillon, their shields hiding their breasts.</p> +<p>'Lords,' said Richard, 'we await your leisures.' None cared to +attack: there was the fire to cross, and in that narrow entry three +desperate blades. What could the old King do? He threatened hell +and death, he cursed his son more dreadfully, and (you may take it) +with far less reason, than Almighty God cursed Sodom and Gomorrah, +cities of the plain; but Richard made no answer, and when, quite +beside himself, the old man leaped the fire and came hideously on +to the swords, the points dropped at his son's direction. Almost +crying, the King turned to his followers. 'Taillefer, will you see +me dishonoured? Where is Ponthieu? Where is Drago?' So at last they +all attacked together, coming on with their shields before them, in +a phalanx. This was a device that needs must fail; they could not +drive a wedge where they could not get in the point. The three +defending shields were locked in the entry. Two men fell at the +first assault, and Richard's terrible axe crashed into +Perceforest's skull and scattered his brains wide. Red and +breathless work as it was, it was not long adoing. The King was +dismayed at the killing of Perceforest, and dared risk no more +lives at such long odds. 'Fire the other door, Drago,' he said +grimly. 'We'll have the place down upon them.' The Normans were set +to engage the three while others went to find fuel.</p> +<p>The Viscount of Béziers had had his hand dressed by +Jehane, and was now able to take his turn. It was by a ruse of his +that Richard got away without a life lost. With Jehane to help him, +he got the horses trapped and housed. 'Now, Richard,' he said, +'listen to my proposals. I am going to open the north door and make +away before they fire it. I shall have half of them after me as I +reckon; but whereas I shall have a good start on a fresh horse, I +doubt not of escape. Do you manage the rest: there will be three of +you.'</p> +<p>Richard approved. 'Go, Raimon,' he said. 'We will join you on +the edge of the plain.'</p> +<p>This was done. Jehane, when Béziers was ready, flung open +the door. Out he shot like a bolt, and she shut it behind him. The +old King got wind of him, spurred off with five or six at his +heels, such as happened to be mounted. Richard fell back from the +entry, got out his horse, and came forward. As he came he stooped +and picked up Jehane, who, with a quick nestling movement, settled +into his shield arm. Roussillon and Gaston in like manner got their +horses; then at a signal they drove out of the tower into the midst +of the Normans. There was a wild scuffle. Richard got a side blow +on the knee, but in return he caught Drago de Merlou under the +armpit and well-nigh cut him in half. Taillefer and Gilles de +Gurdun set upon him together, and one of them wounded him in the +shoulder. But Taillefer got more than he gave, for he fell almost +as he delivered his blow, and broke his jaw against a rock. As for +Gurdun, Richard hurtled full into him, bore him backwards, and +threw him also. Jehane safe in arms, he rode over him where he lay. +But lastly, pounding through the tussocks in the faint grey light, +he met his father charging full upon him, intent to cut him off. +'Avoid me, father,' he cried out. 'By God,' said the King, 'I will +not. I am for you, traitorous beast.' They came together, and +Richard heard the old man's breath roaring like a foundered +horse's. He held his sword arm out stiffly to parry the blow. The +King's sword shivered and fell harmless as Richard shot by him. +Turning as he rode (to be sure he had done him no more hurt), he +saw the wicked grey face of his father cursing him beyond +redemption; and that was the last living sight of it he had.</p> +<p>They got clean away without the loss of a man of theirs, reached +the lands of the Count of Perche, and there found a company of +sixty knights come out to look for Richard. With them he rode down +through Maine to Le Mans, which had fallen, and now held the French +King. Richard's triumphant humour carried him strange lengths. As +they came near to the gates of Le Mans, 'Now,' he said, 'they shall +see me, like a pious knight, bear my holy banner before me.' He +made Jehane stand up in the saddle in front of him; he held her +there firmly by one long arm. So he rode in the midst of his +knights through the thronged streets to the church of Saint-Julien, +Jehane Saint-Pol pillared before him like a saint. The French king +made much of him, and to Jehane was respectful. Prince John was +there, the Duke of Burgundy, the Dauphin of Auvergne, all the great +men. To Richard was given the Bishop's house; Jehane stayed with +the Canonesses of Prémonstre. But he saw her every day.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>OF PROPHECY; AND JEHANE IN THE PERILOUS BED</h3> +<p>Well may the respectable Abbot Milo despond over this affair. +Hear him, and conceive how he shook his head. 'O too great power of +princes,' he writes, 'lodged in a room too frail! O wagging bladder +that serves as cushion for a crown! O swayed by idle breath, +seeming god that yet is a man, man driven by windy passion, that +has yet to ape the god's estate! Because Richard craved this French +girl, therefore he must take her, as it were, from the lap of her +mother. Because he taught her his nobility, which is the mere wind +in a prince's nose, she taught him nobility again. Then because a +prince must not be less noble than his nobles (but always <i>primus +inter pares</i>), he, seeing her nobly disposed, gave her over to a +man of her own choosing; and immediately after, unable to bear it +that a common person should have what he had touched, took her away +again, doing slaughter to get her, to say nothing of outrage in the +church. Last of all, as you are now to hear, thinking that too much +handling was dishonour to the thin vessel of her body, touched on +the generous spot, he made bad worse; he added folly to force; he +made a marriage where none could be; he made immortal enmities, +blocked up appointed roads, and set himself to walk others with a +clog on his leg. Better far had she been a wanton of no account, a +piece of dalliance, a pastime, a common delight! She was very much +other than that. Dame Jehane was a good girl, a noble girl, a +handsome girl of inches and bright blood; but by the Lord God of +Israel (Who died on the Tree), these virtues cost her dear.'</p> +<p>All this, we may take it, is true; the pity is that the thing +promised so fair. Those who had not known Jehane before were +astonished at her capacity, discretion, and dignity. She had a part +to play at Le Mans, where Richard kept his Easter, which would have +taxed a wiser head. She moved warily, a poor thing of gauze, amid +those great lights. King Philip had a tender nose; a very whiff of +offence might have drawn blood. Prince John had a shrewd eye and an +evil way of using it; he stroked women, but they seldom liked it, +and never found good come of it. The Duke of Burgundy ate and drank +too much. He resembled a sponge, when empty too rough a customer, +when full too juicy. It was on one of the days when he was very +full that, tilting at the ring, he won, or said he won, forty +pounds of Richard. Empty, he claimed them, but Richard discerned a +rasp in his manner of asking, and laughed at him. The Duke of +Burgundy took this ill. He was never quite the same to Richard +again; but he made great friends with Prince John.</p> +<p>With all these, and with their courtiers, who took complexion +from their masters, Jehane had to hold the fair way. As a mistress +who was to be a wife, the veiled familiarity with which she was +treated was always preaching to her. How dare she be a Countess who +was of so little account already? The poor girl felt herself doomed +beforehand. What king's mistress had ever been his wife? And how +could she be Richard's wife, betrothed to Gilles de Gurdun? Richard +was much afield in these days, making military dispositions against +his coming absence in Poictou. She saw him rarely; but in return +she saw his peers, and had to keep her head high among the women of +the French court. And so she did until one day, as she was walking +back from mass with her ladies, she saw her brother Saint-Pol on +horseback, him and William des Barres. Timidly she would have +slipped by; but Saint-Pol saw her, reined up his horse in the +middle of the street, and stared at her as if she had been less +than nothing to him. She felt her knees fail her, she grew vividly +red, but she kept her way. After this terrible meeting she dared +not leave the convent.</p> +<p>Of course she was quite safe. Saint-Pol could not do anything +against the conqueror of Touraine, the ally of his master; but she +felt tainted, and had thoughts (not for the first time) of taking +the veil. One woman had already taken it; she heard much concerning +Madame Alois from the Canonesses, how she had a little cell at +Fontevrault among the nuns there, how she shivered with cold in the +hottest sun, how she shrieked o' nights, how chattered to herself, +and how she used a cruel discipline. All these things working upon +Jehane's mind made her love an agony. Many and many a time when her +royal lover came to visit her she clung to him with tears, +imploring him to cast her off again; but the more she bewailed the +more he pursued his end. In truth he was master by this time, and +utterly misconceived her. Nothing she might say or do could stay +him from his intent, which was to wed and afterwards crown her +Countess of Poictou. This was to be done at Pentecost, as the only +reparation he could make her.</p> +<p>Not even what befell on the way to Poictiers for this very thing +could alter him. Again he misread her, or was too full of what he +read in himself to read her at all. They left Le Mans a fortnight +before Pentecost with a great train of lords and ladies, Richard +looking like a young god, with the light of easy mastery shining in +his eyes. She, poor girl, might have been going to the +gallows—and before the end of the journey would thankfully +have gone there; and no wonder. Listen to this.</p> +<p>Midway between Châtelherault and Poictiers is a sandy +waste covered with scrub of juniper and wild plum, which contrives +a living by some means between great bare rocks. It is a +disconsolate place, believed to be the abode of devils and other +damned spirits. Now, as they were riding over this desert, picking +their way among the boulders at the discretion of their animals, it +so happened that Richard and Jehane were in front by some forty +paces. Riding so, presently Jehane gave a short gasping cry, and +almost fell off her horse. She pointed with her hand, and 'Look, +look, look!' she said in a dry whisper. There at a little distance +from them was a leper, who sat scratching himself on a rock.</p> +<p>'Ride on, ride on, my heart,' said Richard; but she, 'No, no, he +is coming. We must wait.' Her voice was full of despair.</p> +<p>The leper came jumping from rock to rock, a horrible thing of +rags and sores, with a loose lower jaw, which his disease had +fretted to dislocation. He stood in their mid path, in full sun, +and plucking at his disastrous eyes, peered upon the gay company. +By this time all the riders were clustered together before him, and +he fingered them out one after another—Richard, whom he +called the Red Count, Gaston, Béziers, Auvergne, Limoges, +Mercadet; but at Jehane he pointed long, and in a voice between a +croak and a clatter (he had no palate), said thrice, 'Hail +thou!'</p> +<p>She replied faintly, 'God be good to thee, brother.' He kept his +finger still upon her as he spoke again: every one heard his +words.</p> +<p>'Beware (he said) the Count's cap and the Count's bed; for so +sure as thou liest in either thou art wife of a dead man, and of +his killer.' Jehane reeled, and Richard held her up.</p> +<p>'Begone, thou miserable,' he cried in his high voice, 'lest I +pity thee no more.' But the leper was capering away over the rocks, +hopping and flapping his arms like an old raven. At a safe distance +he squatted down and watched them, his chin on his bare knees.</p> +<p>This frightened Jehane so much that in the refectory of a +convent, where they stayed the night, she could hardly see her +victual for tears, nor eat it for choking grief. She exhausted +herself by entreaties. Milo says that she was heard crying out at +Richard night after night, conjur ing him by Christ on the Cross, +and Mary at the foot of the Cross, not to turn love into a stabbing +blade; but all to no purpose. He soothed and petted her, he +redoubled her honours, he compelled her to love him; and the more +she agonised the more he was confident he would right her.</p> +<p>Very definitely and with unexampled profusion he provided for +her household and estate as soon as he was at home. Kings' +daughters were among her honourable women, at least, counts' +daughters, daughters of viscounts and castellans. She had Lady +Saill of Ventadorn, Lady Elis of Montfort, Lady Tibors, Lady Maent, +Lady Beatrix, all fully as noble, and two of them certainly more +beautiful than she. Lady Saill and Lady Elis were the most lovely +women of Aquitaine, Saill with a face like a flame, Elis clear and +cold as spring water in the high rocks. He gave her a chancellor of +her seal, a steward of the household, a bishop for chaplain. +Viscount Ebles of Ventadorn was her champion, and Bertran de Born +(who had been doing secret mischief in the south, as you will learn +by and by), if you will believe it, Bertran de Born was forgiven +and made her trobador. It was at a great Court of Love which +Richard caused to be held in the orchards outside Poictiers, with +pavilions and a Chastel d'Amors, that Bertran came in and was +forgiven for the sake of his great singing. On a white silk tribune +before the castle sat Jehane, in a red gown, upon her golden head a +circlet of dull silver, with the leaves and thorns which made up +the coronet of a countess. Richard bade sound the silver trumpets, +and his herald proclaim her three times, to the north, to the east, +and to the south, as 'the most puissant and peerless princess, +Madame Jehane, by the grace of God Countess of Poictou, Duchess of +Aquitaine, consort of our illustrious dread lord Monsire Richard, +Count and Duke of the same.' Himself, gloriously attired in a +bliaut of white velvet and gold, with a purple cloak over his +shoulder, sustained in a <i>tenzon</i> with the chief trobadors of +Languedoc, that she was 'the most pleasant lovely lady now on +earth, or ever known there since the days of Madame Dido, Queen of +Carthage, and Madame Cleopatra, Empress of +Babylon'—unfortunate examples both, as some thought.</p> +<p>Minstrels and poets of the greatest contended with him; Saill +had her champion in Guillem of Cabestaing, Elis in Girault of +Borneilh; the Dauphin of Auvergne sang of Tibors, and Peire Vidal +of Lady Maent. Towards the end came sideways in that dishevelled +red fox (whom nothing shamed), Bertran de Born himself, looked +askance at the Count, puffed out his cheeks to give himself +assurance, and began to sing of Jehane in a way that brought tears +to Richard's eyes. It was Bertran who dubbed her with the name she +ever afterwards went by throughout Poictou and the south, the name +of Bel Vezer. Richard at the end clipped him in his arms, and with +one arm still round his wicked neck led him to the tribune where +Jehane sat blushing. 'Take him into your favour, Lady Bel Vezer,' +he said to her. 'Whatever his heart may be, he hath a golden +tongue.' Jehane, stooping, lent him her cheek, and Bertran fairly +kissed her whom he had sought to undo. Then turning, fired with her +favour, he let his shrill voice go spiring to heaven in her +praise.</p> +<p>For these feats Bertran was appointed to her household, as I +have said. He made no secret of his love for her, but sang of her +night and day, and delighted Richard's generous heart. But indeed +Jehane won the favour of most. If she was not so beautiful as +Saill, she was more courteous, if not so pious as Elis, more the +woman for that. There were many, misled by her petulant lips and +watchful eyes, to call her sulky: these did not judge her silence +favourably. They thought her cold, and so she was to all but one; +their eyes might have told them what she was to him, and how when +they met in love, to kiss or cling, their two souls burned +together. And if she made a sweet lover, she promised to be a rare +Countess. Her judgment was never at fault; she was noble, and her +sedate gravity showed her to be so. She was no talker, and had +great command over herself; but she was more pale than by ordinary, +and her eyes were burning bright. The truth was, she was in a fever +of apprehension, restless, doomed, miserable; devouringly in love, +yet dreading to be loved. So, more and more evidently in pain, she +walked her part through the blare of festival as Pentecost drew +nigh.</p> +<p>'Upon that day,' to quote the mellifluous abbot, 'Upon that day +when in leaping tongues the Spirit of God sat upon the heads of the +Holy Apostles, and gave letters to the unlettered and to the +speechless Its own nature, Count Richard wedded Dame Jehane, and +afterwards crowned her Countess with his own hands.</p> +<p>'They put her, crying bitterly, into the Count's bed in the +Castle of Poictiers on the evening of the same feast. Weeping also, +but at a later day, I saw her crowned again at Angers with the +Count's cap of Anjou. So to right her and himself Count Richard did +both the greatest wrong of all.'</p> +<p>Much more pageantry followed the marriage. I admire Milo's +account. 'He held a tournament after this, when the Count and the +party of the castle maintained the field against all corners. There +was great jousting for six days, I assure you; for I saw the whole +of it. No English knights were there, nor any from Anjou; but a few +French (without King Philip's goodwill), many Gascons and men of +Toulouse and the Limousin; some from over the mountains, from +Navarre, and Santiago, and Castile; there also came the Count of +Champagne with his friends. King Sancho of Navarre was excessively +friendly, with a gift of six white stallions, all housed, for Dame +Jehane; nobody knew why or wherefore at the time, except Bertran de +Born (O thief unrepentant!).</p> +<p>'Countess Jehane, with her ladies, being set in a great balcony +of red and white roses, herself all in rose-coloured silk with a +chaplet of purple flowers, the first day came Count Richard in +green armour and a surcoat of the same embroidered with a naked +man, a branch of yellow broom in his helm. None held up against him +that day; the Duke of Burgundy fell and brake his collar-bone. The +second day he drove into the mêlée suddenly, when +there was a great press of spears, all in red with a flaming sun on +his breast. He sat a blood-horse of Spain, bright chestnut colour +and housed in red. Then, I tell you, we saw horses and men sunder +their loves. The third day Pedro de Vaqueiras, a knight from +Santiago, encountered him in his silver armour, when he rode a +horse white as the Holy Ghost. By a chance blow the Spaniard bore +him back on to the crupper. There was a great shout, "The Count is +down! Look to the castle, Poictou!" Dame Jehane turned colour of +ash, for she remembered the leper's prophecy, and knew that De +Vaqueiras loved her. But Richard recovered himself quickly, crying, +"Have at you again, Don Pedro." So they brought fresh spears, and +down went De Vaqueiras on his back, his horse upon him. To be +plain, not Hector raging over the field with shouts for Achilles, +nor flamboyant Achilles spying after Hector, nor Hannibal at +Cannae, Roland in the woody pass of Roncesvalles, nor the admired +Lancelot, nor Tristram dreadful in the Cornish isle—not one +of these heroes was more gloriously mighty than Count Richard. Like +the war-horse of Job (the prophet and afflicted man) he stamped +with his foot and said among the captains "ha ha!" His nostrils +scented the battle from very far off; he set on like the quarrell +of a bow, and gathering force as he went, came rocking into his +adversary like galley against galley. With all this he was gentle, +had a pleasant laugh. It was good to be struck down by such a man, +if it ever can be good. He bore away opposition as he bore away the +knights.'</p> +<p>If one half of this were true, and no man in steel could +withstand him, how could circumstance, how could she, this slim and +frightened girl? Mad indeed with love and pride, quite beside +herself, she forgot for once her tremors and qualms. On the last +day she fell panting upon his breast; and he, a great lover, kissed +her before them all, and lifted her high in his hands. 'Oyez, my +lords!' he cried with a mighty voice, 'Is this a lovely wife I have +won, or not?' They answered him with a shout.</p> +<p>He took her a progress about his country afterwards. From +Poictiers they went to Limoges, thence westward to Angoulesme, and +south to Périgueux, to Bazas, to Cahors, Agen, even to Dax, +which is close to the country of the King of Navarre. Wherever he +led her she was hailed with joy. Young girls met her with flowers +in their hands, wise men came kneeling, offering the keys of their +towns; the youth sang songs below her balcony, the matrons made +much of her and asked her searching questions. They saw in her a +very superb and handsome Duchess, Jehane of the Fair Girdle, now +acclaimed in the soft syllables of Aquitaine as Bel Vezer. When +they were at Dax the wise King of Navarre sent ambassadors +beseeching from them a visit to his city of Pampluna; but Richard +would not go. Then they came back to Poictiers and shocking news. +This was of the death of King Henry of England, the old lion, 'dead +(Milo is bold to say) in his sin.'</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>HOW THEY BAYED THE OLD LION</h3> +<p>I must report what happened to the King of England when (like a +falcon foiled in his stoop) he found himself outpaced and +outgeneralled on the moor. Shaken off by those he sought to entrap, +baited by the badger he hoped to draw, he took on something not to +be shaken off, namely death, and had drawn from him what he would +ill spare, namely the breath of his nostrils. To have done with all +this eloquence, he caught a chill, which, working on a body +shattered by rages and bad living, smouldered in him—a +slow-eating fever which bit him to the bones, charred and +shrivelled him up. In the clutches of this crawling disease he +joined his forces with those of his Marshal, and marched to the +relief of Le Mans, where the French King was taking his ease. +Philip fired the place when he heard of his approach; so Henry got +near enough to see the sky throbbing with red light, and over all a +cloud of smoke blacker than his own despair. It is said that he had +a fit of hard sobbing when he saw this dreadful sight. He would not +suffer the host to approach the burning city, but took to his bed, +turned his face to the tent-wall, and refused alike housel and +meat. News, and of the worst, came fast. The French were at +Châteaudun, the Countess of Brittany's men were threatening +Anjou from the north; all Touraine with Saumur and a chain of +border castles were subject to Richard his son. These things he +heard without moving from his bed or opening his eyes.</p> +<p>After a week of this misery two of his lords, the Marshal, +namely, and Bishop Hugh of Durham, came to his bedside and told +him, 'Sire, here are come ambassadors from France speaking of a +peace. How shall it be?'</p> +<p>'As you will,' said the King; 'only let me sleep.' He spoke +drowsily, as if not really awake, but it is thought that he was +more watchful than he chose to appear.</p> +<p>They held a hasty conference, Geoffrey his bastard, the Marshal, +the Bishop: these and the French ambassadors. On the King's part +they made but one request; and Geoffrey made that. The King was +dying: let him be taken down to his castle of Chinon, not die in +the fields like an old hunting dog. This was allowed. He took no +sort of notice, let them do what they would with him, slept +incessantly all the way to Chinon.</p> +<p>They brought him the parchments, sealed with his great seal; and +he, quite broken, set his hand to them without so much as a curse +on the robbery done his kingdom. But as the bearers were going out +on tiptoe he suddenly sat up in bed. 'Hugh,' he grumbled, 'Bishop +Hugh, come thou here.' The Bishop turned back eagerly, for those +two had loved each other in their way, and knelt by his bed.</p> +<p>'Read me the signatures to these damned things,' said the King; +and Hugh rejoiced that he was better, yet feared to make him +worse.</p> +<p>'Ah, dear sire,' he began to say; but 'Read, man,' said the old +King, jerking his foot under the bedclothes. So Hugh the Bishop +began to read them over, and the sick man listened with a shaky +head, for by now the fever was running high.</p> +<p>'Philip the August, King of the Franks,' says the Bishop; and 'A +dog's name,' the old King muttered in his throat. 'Sanchez, +Catholic King of Navarre,' says Hugh; and 'Name of an owl,' King +Henry. To the same ground-bass he treated the themes of the +illustrious Duke of Burgundy, Henry Count of Champagne, and others +of the French party. With these the Bishop would have stopped, but +the King would have the whole. 'Nay, Hugh,' he said—and his +teeth chattered as if it had been bitter cold—'out with the +name of my beloved son. So you shall see what joyful agreement +there is in my house.' The Bishop read the name of Richard Count of +Poictou, and the King grunted his 'Traitor from the womb,' as he +had often done before.</p> +<p>'Who follows Richard?' he asked.</p> +<p>'Oh, our Lady, is he not enough, sire?' said the Bishop in fear. +The old King sat bolt upright and steadied his head on his knees. +'Read,' he said again.</p> +<p>'I cannot read!' cried Hugh with a groan. The King said, 'You +are a fool. Give me the parchment.'</p> +<p>He pored over it, with dim eyes almost out of his keeping, +searching for the names at the top. So he found what he had +dreaded—'John Count of Mortain.' Shaking fearfully, he began +to point at the wall as if he saw the man before him. 'Jesu! Count +by me, King by me, and Judas by me! Now, God, let me serve Thee as +Thou deservest. Thou hast taken away all my sons. Now then the +devil may have my soul, for Thou shalt never have it.' The +death-rattle was heard in his throat, and Hugh sprang forward to +help him: he was still stiffly upright, still looking (though with +filmy eyes) at the wall, still trying to shape in words his wicked +vaunts. No words came from him; his jaw dropped before his strong +old body. They brought him the Sacrament; his soul rejected +it—too clean food. Hugh and others about him, all in a sweat, +got him down at last. They anointed him and said a few prayers, for +they were in a desperate hurry when it came to the end. It was near +midnight when he died, and at that hour, they terribly report, the +wind sprang up and howled about the turrets of Chinon, as if all +hell was out hunting for that which he had promised them. But, if +the truth must be told, he had never kept his promises, and there +is no reason to suppose that he kept that one either. Milo adds, So +died this great, puissant, and terrible king, cursing his children, +cursed in them, as they in him. All power was given over to him +from his birth, save one only, power over himself. He was indeed a +slave more wretched than those hinds, <i>glebæ +ascriptitii</i>, whom at a distance he ruled in his lands: he was +slave of his baser parts. With God he was always at war, and with +God's elect. What of blessed Thomas? Let Thomas answer on the Last +Day. I deny him none of his properties; he was open-handed, +open-minded, as bold as a lion. But his vices ate him up. Peace be +with the man; he was a mighty king. He left a wife in prison, two +sons in arms against him, and many bastards.'</p> +<p>As soon as he was dead his people came about like flies and +despoiled the Castle of Chinon, the bed where he lay (smiling +grimly, as if death had made him a cynic), his very body of the +rings on its fingers, the gold circlet, the Christ round his neck. +Such flagrancy was the penalty of death, who had made himself too +cheap in those days; nor were there any left with him who might +have said, Honour my dead father, or dead master. William the +Marshal had gone to Rouen, afraid of Richard; Geoffrey was half way +to Angers after treasure; the Bishop of Durham (for purposes) had +hastened off to Poictiers to be the first to hail the new King. All +that remained faithful in that den of thieves were a couple of poor +girls with whom the old sinner had lately had to do. Seeing he was +left naked on his bed, one of these—Nicolete her name was, +from Harfleur—touched the other on the shoulder—Kentish +Mall they called her—and said, 'They have robbed our master +of so much as a shirt to be buried in. What shall we do?'</p> +<p>Mall said, 'If we are found with him we shall be hanged, sure +enough. Yet the old man was kind to me.'</p> +<p>'And to me he was kind,' said Nicolete, 'God wot.'</p> +<p>Then they looked at each other. 'Well?' said Nicolete. And Mall, +'What you do I will do.' So they kissed together, knowing it was a +gallows matter, and went in to the dead body of the King. They +washed it tenderly, and anointed it, composed the hands and shut +down the horrible sightless eyes, then put upon it the only shirt +they could find, which (being a boy's) was a very short one. +Afterwards came the Chancellor, Stephen of Turon, called up in a +great hurry from a merry-making, with one or two others, and took +some order in the affair.</p> +<p>The Chancellor knew perfectly well that King Henry had desired +to be buried in the church of the nuns at Fontevrault. There had +been an old prophecy that he should lie veiled among the veiled +women which had pleased him very much, though it had often been his +way to scoff at it. But no one dared move him without the order of +the new King, whoever that might happen to be. Who could tell when +Anjou was claiming a crown? Messengers therefore were sent out +hot-foot to Count Richard at Poictiers, and to Count John, who was +supposed to be in Paris. He, however, was at Tours with the French +King, and got the news first.</p> +<p>It caught him in the wind, so to put it. Alain, a Canon of +Tours, came before him kneeling, and told him. 'Lord Christ, Alain, +what shall we do?' says he, as white as a cheese-cloth. They fell +talking of this or that, that might or might never be done, when in +burst King Philip, Saint-Pol, Des Barres, and the purple-faced Duke +of Burgundy. King Philip ran up to John and clapped him on the +back.</p> +<p>'King John! King John of England!' screamed the young man, like +a witch in the air; then Burgundy began his grumble of thunder.</p> +<p>'I stand for you, by God. I am for you, man.' But Saint-Pol +knelt and touched his knee.</p> +<p>'Sire, do me right, and I become your man!' So said Des Barres +also. Count John looked about him and wrung his hands.</p> +<p>'Heh, my lords! Heh, sirs! What shall I do now?' He was liquid; +fear and desire frittered his heart to water.</p> +<p>They held a great debate, all talking at once, except the +subject of the bother. He could only bite his nails and look out of +the window. To them, then, came creeping Alois of France, deadly +pale, habited in the grey weeds of a nun. How she got in, I know +not; but they parted this way and that before her, and so she came +very close to John in his chair, and touched him on the shoulder. +'What now, traitor?' she said hoarsely. 'Whom next? The sister +betrayed; the father; and now the brother and king?'</p> +<p>John shook. 'No, no, Alois, no no!' he said in a whisper. 'Go to +bed. We think not of it.' But she still stood looking at him, with +a wry smile on that face of hers, pinched with grief and old before +its time. Saint-Pol stamped his foot. 'Whom shall we trust in +Anjou?' he said to Des Barres. Des Barres shrugged. The Duke of +Burgundy grumbled something about 'd——d women,' and +King Philip ordered his sister to bed. They got her out of the room +after a painful scene, and fell to wrangling again, trying to screw +some resolution into the white prince whom they all intended to use +as a cat's-paw. About eight o'clock in the morning—they still +at it—came a shatter of hoofs in the courtyard, which made +Count John jump in his skin. A herald was announced.</p> +<p>Reeking he stood, and stood covered, in the presence of so much +majesty.</p> +<p>'Speak, sir,' said King Philip; and 'Uncover before France, you +dog,' said young Saint-Pol. The herald kept his cap where it +was.</p> +<p>'I speak from England to the English. This is the command of my +master, Richard King of the English, Duke of Normandy, Count of +Anjou. Bid our brother, the illustrious Count of Mortain, attend us +at Fontevrault with all speed for the obsequies of the King our +father. And those who owe him obedience, let them come also.'</p> +<p>There was low murmuring in the chamber, which grew in volume, +until at last Burgundy thundered out, 'England is here! Cut down +that man.' But the herald stood his ground, and no one drew a +sword. John dismissed him with a few smooth words; but he could not +get rid of his friends so easily. Nor could they succeed with him. +If Montferrat had been there they might have screwed him to the +pitch. Montferrat had a clear course: any king of England who would +help him to the throne of Jerusalem was the king of England he +would serve. But Philip would not commit himself, and Burgundy +waited on Philip. As for Saint-Pol, he was nothing but a sword or +two and an unquenchable grudge. And forbidding in the background +stood Alois, with reproach in her sunken eyes. The end of it was +that Count John, after a while, rode out towards Fontevrault with +all the pomp he could muster. Thither also, it is clear, went +Madame Alois.</p> +<p>'I was with my master,' says Milo in his book, 'when they +brought him the news. He was not long home from the South, had been +hawking in the meadows all day, and was now in great fettle, +sitting familiarly among his intimates, Jehane on his knee. Bertran +de Born was in there singing some free song, and the gentle +Viscount of Béziers, and Lady Elis of Montfort (who sat on a +cushion and played with Dame Jehane's hand), and Gaston of +Béarn, and (I think) Lady Tibors of Vézelay. Then +came the usher suddenly into the room with his wand, and by the +door fell upon one knee, a sort of state which Count Richard had +always disliked. It made him testy.</p> +<p>'"Well, Gaucelm, well," he said; "on your two legs, my man, if +you are to please me."</p> +<p>'"Lord King—" Gaucelm began, then stopped. My lord bayed +at him.</p> +<p>'"Oy Deus!" he said in our tongue, below his breath; and Jehane +slid off his knee and on to her own. So fell kneeling the whole +company, till Gaston of Béarn, more mad than most, sprang +up, shouting, "Hail, King of the English!" and better, "Hail, Count +of Anjou!" We all began on that cry; but he stopped us with a +poignant look.</p> +<p>'"God have mercy on me: I am very wicked," he said, and covered +up his face. No one spoke. Jehane bent herself far down and kissed +his foot.</p> +<p>'Then he sent for the heralds, and in burst Hugh Puiset, Bishop +of Durham, with his flaming face, outstripping all the others and +decency at once. By this time King Richard had recovered himself. +He heard the tale without moving a feature, and gave a few short +commands. The first was that the body of the dead King should be +carried splendidly to Fontevrault; and the next that a pall should +be set up in his private chapel here at Poictiers, and tall candles +set lighted about it. So soon as this was done he left the chamber, +all standing, and went alone to the chapel. He spent the night +there on his knees, himself only with a few priests. He neither +sent for Countess Jehane, nor did she presume to seek him. Her +women tell me that she prayed all night before a Christ in her +bed-chamber; and well she might, with a queen's crown in fair view. +In two or three days' time King Richard pressed out, very early, +for Fontevrault. I went with him, and so did Hugh of Durham, the +Bishop of Poictiers, and the Dauphin of Auvergne. These, with the +Chancellor of Poictou, the household servants and guards, were all +we had with us. The Countess was to be ready upon word from him to +go with her ladies and the court whithersoever he should appoint. +Bertran de Born went away in the night, and King Richard never saw +him again; but I shall have to speak of his last <i>tenzon</i>, and +his last Sirvente of Kings, by heaven!</p> +<p>'Before he went King Richard kissed the Countess Jehane twice in +the great hall. "Farewell, my queen," he said plainly, and, as some +think, but not I, deliberately. "God be thy good friend. I shall +see thee before many days." If the man was changed already, she was +not at all changed. She was very grave, but not crying, and put up +her face for his kisses as meek as any baby. She said nothing at +all, but stood palely at the door with her women as King Richard +rode over the bridge.</p> +<p>'For my part,' he concludes, 'when I consider the youth and +fierce untutored blood of this noblest of his race; or when I +remember their terrible names, Tortulf Forester, and Ingelger, +Fulke the Black and Fulke the Red, and Geoffrey Greygown and +Geoffrey the Fair, and that old Henry, the wickedest of all; their +deeds also, how father warred upon his sons, and sons conspired +against their fathers; how they hated righteousness and loved +iniquity, and spurned monks and priests, and revelled in the +shambles they had made: then I say to myself, Good Milo, how +wouldst thou have received thy calling to be king and sovereign +count? Wouldst thou have said, as Count John said, "Lord Christ, +Alain, what shall we do?" Or rather, "God have mercy, I am very +wicked." It is true that Count John was not called to those +estates, and that King Richard was. But I choose sooner to think +that each was confronted with his dead father, and not the emptied +throne. In which case Count John thought of his safety and King +Richard of his sin. Such musing is a windy business, suitable to +old men. But I suppose that you who read are very young.'</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>HOW THEY MET AT FONTEVRAULT</h3> +<p>Communing with himself as he rode alone over the broomy downs, +King Richard reined up shortly and sent back a messenger for Milo +the Abbot; so Milo flogged his old mule. Directly he was level with +his master, that master spoke in a quiet voice, like one who is +prepared for the worst: 'Milo, what should a man do who has slain +his own father? Is repentance possible for such a one?'</p> +<p>Milo looked up first at the blue sky, then about at the earth, +all green and gold. He wrinkled close his eyes and let the sun play +upon his face. The air was soft, the turf springy underfoot. He +found it good to be there. 'Sire,' he said, 'it is a hard matter; +yet there have been worse griefs than that in the world.'</p> +<p>'Name one, my friend,' says the King, whose eyes were fixed on +the edge of the hill.</p> +<p>Milo said, 'There was a Father, my lord King Richard, who slew +His own Son that the world might be the better. That was a terrible +grief, I suppose.' The King was silent for a few paces; then he +asked—</p> +<p>'And was the world much the better?'</p> +<p>'Beau sire,' replied Milo, 'not very much. But that was not +God's fault; for it had, and still has, the chance of being the +better for it.'</p> +<p>'And do you dare, Milo,' said the King, turning him a stern +face, 'set my horrible offence beside the Divine Sacrifice?'</p> +<p>'Not so, my lord King,' said Milo at large; 'but I draw this +distinction. You are not so guilty as you suppose; for in this +world the father maketh the son, both in the way of nature and of +precept. In heaven it is otherwise. There the Son was from the +beginning, co-eternal with the Father, begotten but not made. In +the divine case there was pure sacrifice, and no guilt at all. In +the earthly case there was much guilt, but as yet no +sacrifice.'</p> +<p>'That guilt was mine, Milo,' said Richard with a sob.</p> +<p>'Lord, I think not,' answered the old priest. 'You are what your +fathers have made you. But now mark me well: in doing sacrifice you +can be very greatly otherwise. Then if no more guilt be upon you +than hangs by the misfortunes of tainted man, you can please +Almighty God by doing what you only among men can do, wholesome +sacrifice.'</p> +<p>'Why, what sacrifice shall I do?' says the King.</p> +<p>Milo stood up in his stirrups, greatly exalted in the +spirit.</p> +<p>'My lord,' he said, 'behold, it is for two years that you have +borne the sign of that sacrifice upon you, but yet have done +nothing of it. During these years God's chosen seat hath lain +dishonoured, become the wash-pot of the heathen. The Holy Tree, +stock beyond price, Rod of Grace, figure of freedom, is in bonds. +The Sepulchre is ensepulchred; Antichrist reigns. Lord, +Lord,'—here the Abbot shook his lifted finger,—'how +long shall this be? You ask me of sin and sacrifice. Behold the +way.'</p> +<p>King Richard jerked his head, then his horse's. Get back, Milo, +and leave me,' he said curtly, struck in the spurs, and galloped +away over the grey down.</p> +<p>The cavalcade halted at Thouars, and lay the night in a convent +of the Order of Savigny. King Richard kept himself to himself, ate +little, spoke less. He prayed out the night, or most of it, +kneeling in his shirt in the sanctuary, with his bare sword held +before him like a cross. Next morning he called up his household by +the first cock, had them out on the road before the sun, and pushed +forward with such haste that it was one hour short of noon when +they saw the great church of the nuns of Fontevrault like a pile of +dim rock in their way.</p> +<p>At a mile's distance from the walls the King got off his horse, +and bid his squires strip him. He ungirt his sword, took off helm +and circlet, cloak, blazoned surcoat, the girdle of his county. +Beggared so of all emblems of his grace, clad only in hauberk of +steel, bareheaded, without weapon, and on foot, he walked among his +mounted men into the little town of Fontevrault. That which he +could not do off, his sovereign inches, sovereign eye, gait of +mastery, prevailed over all other robbery of his estate. The people +bent their knees as he passed; not a few—women with babies in +their shawls, lads and girls—caught at his hand or hauberk's +edge, to kiss it and get the virtue out of him that is known to +reside in a king. When he came within sight of the church he knelt +and let his head sink down to his breast. But his grief seemed to +strike inwards like a frost; he stiffened and got up, and went +forward. No one would have guessed him a penitent then, who saw him +mount the broad steps to meet his brother. Before the shut doors of +the abbey was Count John, very splendid in a purple cloak, his +crown of a count upon his yellow hair. He stood like a king among +his peers, but flushed and restless, twiddling his fingers as kings +do not twiddle theirs.</p> +<p>Irresolution kept him where he was until Richard had topped the +first flight of steps. But then he came down to meet him in too +much of a hurry, tripping, blundering the degrees, nodding and +poking his head, with hands stretched out and body bent, like his +who supplicates what he does not deserve.</p> +<p>'Hail, King of England, O hail!' he said, wheedling, royally +vested, royally above, yet grovelling there to the prince below +him. King Richard stopped with his foot on the next step, and let +the Count come down.</p> +<p>'How lies he?' were his first words; the other's face grew +fearful.</p> +<p>'Eh, I know not,' he said, shuddering. 'I have not seen him.' +Now, he must have been in Fontevrault for a day or more.</p> +<p>'Why not?' asked Richard; and John stretched out his arms +again.</p> +<p>'Oh, brother, I waited for you!' he cried, then added lower, 'I +could not face him alone.' This was perfectly evident, or he would +never have said it.</p> +<p>'Pish!' said King Richard, that is no way to mend matters. But +it is written, "They shall look on him whom they pierced." Come you +in.' He mounted the steps to his brother's level; and men saw that +he was nearly a hand taller, though John was a fine tall man.</p> +<p>'With you, Richard, with you—but never without you!' said +John, in a hush, rolling his eyes about. Richard, taking no notice, +bid them set open the doors. This was done: the chill taint of the +dark, of wax and damp and death came out. John shivered, but King +Richard left him to shiver, and passed out of the sun into the +echoing nave. Lightly and fiercely he went in, like a brave man who +is fretful until he meets his danger's face; and John caught at his +wrist, and went tiptoe after him. All the rest, Poictevins and +Frenchmen together, followed in a pack; then the two bishops +vested.</p> +<p>At the far end of the church, beyond the great Rood, they saw +the candles flare about a bier. Before that was a little white +altar with a priest saying his mass in a whisper. The high altar +was all dark, and behind a screen in the north transept the nuns +were singing the Office for the Dead. King Richard pushed on +quickly, the others trooping behind. There in the midst of all this +chilly state, grim and sour-faced, as he had always been, but now +as unconcerned as all the dead are, lay the empty majesty of +England, careless (as it seemed) of the full majesty; and dead +Anjou a stranger to the living.</p> +<p>It was not so altogether, if we are to believe those who saw it. +The hatred of the dead is a fearful thing: of that which followed +be God the only judge, and I not even the reporter. Milo saw it, +and Milo (who got some comfort out of it at last) shall tell you +the tale; 'for I know,' says he, 'that in the end the hidden things +are to be made plain, and even so, things which then I guessed +darkly have since been opened out to my understanding. Behold!' he +goes on, 'I tell you a mystery. Lightly and adventuring came King +Richard to his dead father, and Count John dragging behind him like +a load of care. Reverently he knelt him down beside the bier, +prayed for a little, then, looking up, touched the grey old face. +Before God, I say, it was the act of a boy. But slowly, slowly, we +who watched quaking saw a black stream well at the nostril of the +dead, and slowly drag a snake's way down the jaw: a sight to shake +those fraught with God—and what to men in their trespasses? +But while all the others fell back gasping, or whispering their +prayers, scarce knowing what I was or did (save that I loved King +Richard), I whipt forward with a handkerchief to cover the horror +out of sight. This I would have done, though all had seen it; the +King had seen it, and that white-hearted traitor Count had seen it, +and sprung away with a wail, "O Christ! O Christ!" The King stood +up, and with his lifted hand stopped me in the pious act. All held +their breaths. I saw the priest at the altar peer round the corner, +his mouth making a ring. King Richard was very pale and serious. He +began to talk to his father, while the Count lay cowering on the +pavement.</p> +<p>'"Thou thinkest me thy slayer, father," he said, "pointing at me +the murder-sign. Well, I am content to take it; for be thou sure of +this, that if that last war between us was rightfully begun it was +rightfully ended. And of righteousness I think I am as good a judge +as ever thou wert. Thy work is done, and mine is to do. If I may be +as kingly as thou wert, I shall please thee yet; and if I fail in +that I shall never blame thee, father. Now, Abbot Milo," he +concluded, "cover the face." So I did, and Count John got up to his +knees again, and looked at his brother.</p> +<p>'This was not the end. Madame Alois of France came into the +church through the nuns' door, dressed all in grey, with a great +grey hood on her head, and after her women in the same habit. She +came hastily, with a quick shuffling motion of the feet, as if she +was gliding; and by the bier she stood still, questing with her +eyes from side to side, like a hunted thing. King Richard she saw, +for he was standing up; but still she looked about and about. Now +Count John was kneeling in the shadow, so she saw him last; but +once meeting his deplorable eyes with her own she never left go +again. Whatever she did (and it was much), or whatever said (and +her mouth was pregnant), was with a fixed gaze on him.</p> +<p>'Being on the other side of the bier from him she watched, she +put her arms over the dead body, as a priest at mass broods upon +the Host he is making. And looking shrewdly at the Count, "If the +dead could speak, John," she said, "if the dead could speak, how +think you it would report concerning you and me?"</p> +<p>'"Ha, Madame!" says Count John, shaking like a leafy tree, "what +is this?" Madame Alois removed my handkerchief. The horror was +still there.</p> +<p>'"He did me kindness," she said, looking wistfully at the empty +face; "he tried to serve me this way and that way." She stroked it, +then looked again at the Count. "But then you came, John; and you +he loved above all. How have you served him, John, my bonny lad? +Eh, Saviour!" She looked up on high—"Eh, Saviour, if the dead +could speak!"</p> +<p>'No more than the dead could John speak; but King Richard +answered her.</p> +<p>'"Madame," he said, "the dead hath spoken, and I have answered +it. That is the kingly office, I think, to stand before God for the +people. Let no other speak. All is said."</p> +<p>'"No, no, Richard," said Madame Alois, "all is not nearly said. +So sure as I live in torment, you will rue it if you do not listen +to me now."</p> +<p>'"Madame," replied the King, "I shall not listen. I require your +silence. If I have it in me, I command it. I know what I have +done."</p> +<p>'"You know nothing," said the lady, beginning to tremble. "You +are a fool."</p> +<p>'"May be," said King Richard, with a little shrug, "but I am a +king in Fontevrault."</p> +<p>'The Count of Mortain began to wag his head about and pluck at +the morse of his cope. "Air, air!" he gasped; "I strangle! I +suffocate!" They carried him out of church to his, lodging, and +there bled him.</p> +<p>'"Once more, King Richard," said Madame, "will you hear the +truth from me?"</p> +<p>'The king turned fiercely, saying, "Madame, I will hear nothing +from you. My purpose is to take the Cross here in this church, and +to set about our Lord's business as soon as may be. I urge you, +therefore, to depart and, if you have time, to consider your soul's +health—as I consider mine and my kingdom's."</p> +<p>'She began to cry, being overwrought with this terrible affair. +"O Richard," she said, "forgive me my trespasses. I am most +wretched."</p> +<p>'He stepped forward, and across the dead man kissed her on the +forehead. "God knows, I forgive thee, Alois," he said.</p> +<p>'So then she went away with her people, and no long time +afterwards took (as I believe) the whole vow in the convent of +Fontevrault.' Thus Milo records a scene too high for me.</p> +<p>When they had buried the old King, Richard sent letters to his +brother of France, reminding him of what they had both undertaken +to do, namely, to redeem the Sepulchre and set up again in +Jerusalem the True Cross. 'As for me,' he wrote, 'I do most +earnestly purpose to set about that business as soon as I may; and +I require of you, sire and my brother, to witness my resumption of +the Cross in this church of Fontevrault upon the feast of Monsire +Saint John Baptist next coming. Let them also who are in your +allegiance, the illustrious Duke of Burgundy, Conrad Marquess of +Montferrat, and my cousin Count Henry, be of your party and sharers +with you in the new vow.' This done, he went to Chinon to secure +his father's treasure, and then made preparations for his +coronation as Count of Anjou, and for Jehane's coronation.</p> +<p>When she got his word that she was to meet him at Angers by a +certain day there was no thought of disobedience; the pouting mouth +meant no mutiny. It meant sickening fear. In Angers they crown the +Count of Anjou with the red cap, and put upon his feet the red +shoes. That would make Richard the Red Count indeed, whose cap and +bed the leper had bid her beware. Beware she might, but how avoid? +She knew Richard by this time for master. A year ago she had +subjugated him in the Dark Tower; but since then he had handled +her, moulded her, had but to nod and she served his will. With what +heart of lead she came, come she did to await him in black Angers, +steep and hardy little city of slate; and the meeting of the two +brought tears to many eyes. She fell at his feet, clasped his +knees, could not speak nor cease from looking up; and he, tall and +kingly, stoops, lifts her, holds her upon his breast, strokes her +face, kisses her eyes and sorrowful mouth. 'Child,' he says, 'art +thou glad of me?' asking, as lovers love best to do, the things +they know best already. 'O Richard! O Richard!' was all she could +say, poor fond wretch; however, we go not by the sense of a bride's +language, but by the passion that breaks it up. Every agony of +self-reproach, of fear of him, of mistrust, of lurking fate, lay in +those sobbed words, 'O Richard! O Richard!'</p> +<p>When he had her alone at night, and she had found her voice, she +began to woo him and softly to beguile him with a hand to his chin, +judging it a propitious time, while one of his held her head. All +the arts of woman were hers that night, but his were the new +purposes of a man. He had had a rude shock, was full of the sense +of his sin; that grim old mocking face, grey among the +candle-flames, was plain across the bed-chamber where they lay. To +himself he made oath that he would sin no more. No, no: a king, he +would do kingly. To her, clasped close in his arms, he gave kisses +and sweet words. Alas, she wanted not the sugar of his tongue; she +would have had him bitter, though it cost her dear. Lying there, +lulled but not convinced, her sobs grew weaker. She cried herself +to sleep, and he kissed her sleeping.</p> +<p>In the cathedral church of his fathers he did on, by the hands +of the Archbishop, the red cap and girdle and shoes of Anjou; there +he held up the leopard shield for all to see. There also upon the +bent head of Jehane—she kneeling before him—he laid for +a little while the same cap, then in its room a circlet of golden +leaves. If he was sovereign Count, girt with the sword, then she +was Countess of Anjou before her grudging world. What more was she? +Wife of a dead man and his killer! The words stayed by her, and +tinged the whole of her life.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>OF WHAT KING RICHARD SAID TO THE BOWING ROOD; AND WHAT JEHANE +TO KING RICHARD</h3> +<p>Miracles, as a plain man, I hold to be the peculiar of the +Church. This chapter must be Milo's on that ground, if there were +no other. But there is one strong other. Milo set the tune which +caused King Richard to dance. And a very good tune it +is—according to Milo. Therefore let him speak.</p> +<p>'The office of Abbot,' he writes, 'is a solemn, great office, +being no less than that of spiritual father to a family of men +consecrate (as it is written, <i>Abba</i>, father); yet not on that +account should vainglory puff the cheeks of a pious man. God knows +that I am no boaster. He, therefore, will not misjudge me, as +certain others have done, when I record in this place (for positive +cause and reason good) the exorbitant honours I received on the day +of my lord Saint John Baptist in this year of thankful redemption +eleven hundred and eighty-nine. Forsooth, I myself, this Milo of +Saint Mary-of-the-Pine, was chosen to preach in the church of the +nuns of Fontevrault before a congregation thus composed:—Two +kings (one crowned), one legate <i>a latere</i>, a reigning duke +(him of Burgundy, I mean), five cinctured counts, twice three +bishops, abbots without number; Jehane Countess of Anjou and wife +to the King of England, the Countess of Roussillon, the two +Countesses of Angoulesme (the old and the young), Lady Elis of +Montfort (reputed the most witty lady in Languedoc), thirteen +pronounced poets, and the hairdresser of the King of +France—to name no more. That sermon of mine—I shame not +to report it-was found worthy the inscription in the Register of +Fontevrault; and in the initial letter thereof, garlanded in gold +work very beautiful to be seen, is the likeness of myself vested, +with a mitre on my head, all done by that ingenious craftsman and +faithful Christian man, Aristarchus of Byzantium, <i>suspirante +deo</i>. There the curious may consult it, as indeed they do. I +hope I know the demands of history upon proportion better than to +write it all here. Briefly then, a second Peter, I stood up before +that crowned assembly and was bold.</p> +<p>'What, I said, is Pharaoh but a noise? How else is Father +Abraham but dusty in his cave? Duke Lot hath a monument less +durable than his wicked wife's; and as for Noë, that great +admiral, the waters of oblivion have him whom the waters of God +might not drown. Conquered lies unconquered Agamemnon; how else +lies Julius Cæsar? Nabuchodonosor, eater of grass, what is +he? Kings pass, and their royal seat gathereth a little dust. Anon +with a besom of feathers cometh. Time the chamberlain, and scareth +to his hiding-place the lizard on the wall. Think soberly, O ye +kings! how your crowns are but yellow metal, and your purple robes +the food of moths, and the sceptres of your power no better than +hedge-twigs for the driving of rats. Round about your crystal orbs +scurry the fleas at play in the night-time; in a little while the +joints of your legs will grapple the degrees of your thrones with +no more zest than an old bargeman's his greasy poop.</p> +<p>'At this King Philip said Tush, and fidgeted in his chair. He +might have put me out of countenance, but that I saw King Richard +clasp his knee and smile into the rafters, and knew by the peaking +of his beard that I had pleased him.</p> +<p>'Thus by precept, by trope and flower of speech, I gaufred the +edges of my discourse; then turning eastward with a cry, I grasped +the pulpit firmly with one hand, the while I raised the other. +Sorrow, I said, is more enduring than the pride of life, my lords, +and to renounce than to heap riches. Behold the King of Sorrows! +Behold the Man beggared! Ai, ai, my lords! is there to be no end to +His sorrows, or shall He be stripped for ever? Yesterday He put off +life itself, and to-day ye bid Him do away with the price of life. +Yesterday He hung upon the Tree; and to-day ye hear it said, Down +with the Tree; let Mahomet kindle his hearth with it. Let us be +done, say you, with dead Lords and wooden stocks: we are kings, and +our stocks golden. It is well said, my lords, after the fashion +this world holds honourable. But I ask, did Job fear God for +nought? But I say, consider the Maccabees. All your broad lands are +not worth the rent of that little garden enclosed, where among +ranked lilies sat Mary singing, God rest Thee, babe, I am Thy +mother and daughter. You wag the head and an enemy dieth. You say, +Come up, and some wretch getteth title to make others wretched. But +no power of life and member, no fountain of earthly honour, no +great breath nor acclamation of trumpets, nor bearing of swords +naked, nor chrism, nor broad seal, nor homage, nor fealty done, is +worth that doom of the Lord to a man; saying, I was naked (Christ +is naked!) and ye clothed Me; I was anhungered (Christ is hungry!) +and ye gave Me meat; I was in prison (so is Christ!) and ye visited +Me. Therefore again I say unto you, Kings, by the spirit of the +Lord which is in me, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem. Awake, do +on your panoplies, shake your sceptres over the armied earth! So +Hierusalem, that bride among brides, that exalted virgin, that +elect lady crowned with stars, shall sit no longer wasted in the +brothel of the heathen: Amen!</p> +<p>'I said; and a great silence fell on all the length and breadth +of the church. King Richard sat up stiff as a tree, staring at the +Holy Rood as though he had a vision of something at work. King +Philip of France, moody, was watching his greater brother. Count +John of Mortain had his head sunk to his breast-bone, his thin +hands not at rest, but one finger picking ever at another. Even the +Duke of Burgundy, the burly eater, was moved, as could be seen by +the working of his cheek-bones. Two nuns were carried out for dead. +All this I saw between my hands as I knelt in prayer. But much more +I saw: it seems that I had called down testimony from on high. I +saw Countess Jehane, half-risen from her seat, white in the face, +open-mouthed, gaping at the Cross. "Saviour, the Rood! the Rood!" +she cried out, choking, then fell back and lay quite still. Many +rose to their feet, some dropped to their knees; all looked.</p> +<p>'We saw the great painted Christ on the Rood stoop His head +forward thrice. At the first and second times, amid cries of +wonder, men looked to see whither He bent His head. But at the +third time all with one consent fell upon their faces, except only +Richard King of England. He, indeed, rose up and stood to his full +height. I saw his blue eyes shine like sapphires as he began to +speak to the Christ. Though he spoke measuredly and low, you could +mark the exultation singing behind his tones.</p> +<p>'"Ah, now, my Lord God," said he, "I perceive that Thou hast +singled me out of all these peers for a work of Thine; which is a +thing so glorious for me that, if I glory in it, I am justified, +since the work is glorious. I take it upon me, my Lord, and shall +not falter in it nor be slow. Enough said: Thou askest not words of +me. Now let me go, that the work may begin." After which, very +devoutly kneeling, he signed to the Archbishop of Tours, who sat in +the sedilia of the sanctuary, to affix the Cross to his shoulder. +Which was done, and afterwards to most of the company then +present—to King Philip, to the Duke of Burgundy, to Henry +Count of Champagne, Bertram Count of Roussillon, and Raymond Count +of Toulouse; to many bishops; also to James d'Avesnes, William des +Barres, and to Eustace Count of Saint-Pol, the brother of Countess +Jehane. But Count John took no Cross, nor did Geoffrey the bastard +of Anjou. Afterwards, I believe, these two worked the French King +into a fury because Richard should have taken upon him the chief +place in this miraculous adventure. The Duke of Burgundy was not at +all pleased either. But everybody else knew that it was to King +Richard the Holy Rood had pointed; and he knew it himself, and +events proved it so.</p> +<p>'But that night after supper he and King Philip kissed each +other, and swore brotherhood on their sword-hilts before all the +peers. I am not one to deny generous moments to that politic +prince; this I consider to have been one, evoked certainly by the +nobility of King Richard. That appointed champion's exaltation +still burned in him; he was fiercely excited, his eyes were bright +with fever of fire. "Hey, Philip," he laughed, "now you and I must +cross the sea! And you a bad sailor, Philip!"</p> +<p>'"'Tis so, indeed, Richard," says King Philip, looking rather +foolish. King Richard clapped him on the shoulder. "A stout heart, +my Philip," he says, "is betokened by your high stomach. That shall +stand us in a good stead in Palestine." Then it was that King +Philip kissed him, and him King Richard again.</p> +<p>'He was in great heart that day, full to the neck with hope and +adventure. I would like to see the man or woman to have denied him +anything. At times like these he was (I do not seek to disguise it) +a frank lover, <i>Non omnia possumus omnes</i>; if any man think he +must have been Galahad the Bloodless Knight because he had been +singled out by the questing Rood, he knows little how high ventures +foment rich blood. Lancelot he never was, to love broadcast; but +Tristram, rather, lover of one woman. Hope, pride, knowledge of his +force, ran tingling in him; perhaps he saw her fairer than any +woman could have been; perhaps he saw her rosy through his sanguine +eyes. He clipped her in his arms in full hall that night in a way +that made her rosy enough. Not that she denied him: good heaven, +who was she to do that? There as he had her close upon his breast +he kissed her a dozen times, and "Jehane, wilt thou fare with me to +England?" he asked her fondly, "or must I leave thee peaking here, +my Countess of Anjou?"</p> +<p>'She would have had her own answer ready to that, good soul, but +that the leper gave her another. In a low, urgent voice she +answered, "Ah, sweet lord, I must never leave thee now"—as if +to ask, Was there need? So he went on talking to her, lover talk, +teasing talk, to see what she would say; and all the while Jehane +stood very near him, with her face held between his two hands as +closely as wine is held by a cup. To whatever he chose to say, and +in whatever fashion, whether strokingly (as to a beloved child), or +gruffly (in sport) as one speaks to a pet dog, she replied in very +meek manner, eyeing him intently, "Yea, Richard," or "Nay, +Richard," agreeing with him always. This he observed. "They call me +Yea-and-Nay, dear girl," he said, "and thou hast learned it of +them. But I warn thee, Jehane, <i>ma mie</i>, I am in a mood of Yea +this night. Therefore deny me not."</p> +<p>'"Lord, I shall never deny thee," says Jehane, red as a rose. +And reason enough! I remembered the words; for while she said them, +it is certain she was praying how best she might make herself a +liar, like Saint Peter.</p> +<p>'Pretty matters! on the faith I profess. And if a man, who is +king of men, may not play with his young wife, I know not who may +play with her. That is my answer to King Philip Augustus, who +fretted and chafed at this harmless performance. As for Saint-Pol, +who ground his teeth over it, I would have a different answer for +him.'</p> +<p>I have given Milo his full tether; but there are things to say +which he knew nothing about. Richard was changed, for all his wild +mood of that night; nor was Jehane slow to perceive it. Perhaps, +indeed, she was too quick, with her wit oversharpened by her uneasy +conscience. But that night she saw, or thought she saw this in +Richard: that whereas the righting of her had been his only concern +before the day of the bowing Rood, now he had another concern. And +the next day, when at dawn he left her and was with his Council +until dinner, she knew it for sure. After dinner (which he scarcely +ate) he rose and visited King Philip. With him, the Legate and the +Archbishops, he remained till late at night. Day succeeded day in +this manner. The French King, the Duke, and their trains went to +Paris. Then came Guy of Lusignan, King (and no king) of Jerusalem, +for help. Richard promised him his, not because he liked him any +better than the Marquess (who kept him out), but because Guy's +title seemed to him a good one. At bottom Richard was as deliberate +as a pair of scales; and just now was acting the perfect king, the +very touchstone of justice. Through all this time of great doings +Jehane stayed quaking at home, sitting strangely among her +women—a countess who knew she was none, a queen by nature who +dreaded to be queen by law. Yet one thing she dreaded more. She was +in a horrible pass. Wife of a dead man and his killer! Why, what +should she do? She dared not go on playing wife to the champion of +heaven, and yet she dared not leave him lest she should be snatched +into the arms of his assassin. On which horn should she impale her +poor heart? She tried to wring prayers out of it, she tried to +moisten her aching eyes with the dew of tears. Slowly, by agony of +effort, she approached her bosom to the steel. One night Richard +came to her, and she drove herself to speak. He came, and she +fenced him off.</p> +<p>'Richard, O Richard, touch me not!'</p> +<p>'God on the Cross, what is this?'</p> +<p>'Touch me not, touch me never; but never leave me!'</p> +<p>'O my pale rose! O fair-girdled!' She stood up, white as her +gown, transfigured, very serious.</p> +<p>'I am not thy wife, Richard; I am no man's wife. No, but I am +thy slave, bound to thee by a curse, held from thee by thy high +calling. I dare not leave thee, my Richard, nor dare stay by thee +so close, lest ruin come of it.'</p> +<p>Richard watched her, frowning. He was much moved, but thought of +what she said.</p> +<p>'Ruin, Jehane, ruin?'</p> +<p>'Ruin of thy venture, my knight of God! Ah, chosen, elect, +comrade of the Rood, gossip of Jesus Christ, duke dedicate!' She +was hued like flame as the great thoughts leaped in her. 'Ah, my +Christian King, it is so little a thing I ask of thee, to set me +apart! What am I to thee, whose bride is the virgin city, the holy +place? What is Jehane, a poor thing handed about, to vex heaven, or +be a stumbling-block in the way of the Cross? Put me away, Richard, +let me go; have done with me, sweet lord.' And then swiftly she ran +and clasped his knees: 'But ask me not to leave thee—no, but +I dare not indeed!' Her tears streamed freely now. When Richard +with a cry snatched her up, she lay weeping like a lost child in +his arms.</p> +<p>He laid her on the bed, worn frail by the strife she had +endured; she had no strength to open her eyes, but moved her lips +to thank him for his pains. At first she turned her head from side +to side, seeking a cool place on the pillow; later she fell into a +heavy, drugged sleep. He watched her till it was nearly light, +brooding over her unconscious face. No thoughts of a king were his, +I think; but once more he lapped them in that young girl's bosom, +and let them sway, ebb and flow, with it.</p> +<p>On the flow, great with her theme, he saw her inspired, standing +with her torch of flame to point his road. A splintry way leads to +the Cross, where even kings consecrate must tear their feet. If he +knew himself, as at such naked hours he must, he knew whither his +heart was set. He was to lead the armies of Christendom, because no +other man could do it. Had he any other pure and stern desire but +that? None. If he could win back the Sepulchre, new plant the Holy +Cross, set a Christian king on the throne below Golgotha, keep word +with God Who had bowed to him from the Rood, give the heathen sword +for sword, and hold the armed world like a spear in his hand, to +shake as he shook—God of all power and might, was this not +worthy his heart?</p> +<p>His heart and Jehane's! The flowing bosom ebbed, and drained him +of all but pity. He saw her like a dead flower, wan, bruised, +thrown away. Robbery! He had stolen her by force. He clenched his +two hands about his knee and shook himself to and fro. Thief! +Damned thief! Had he made her amends? He groaned. Not yet. Should +she not be crowned? She prayed that she might not be. She meant +that; all her soul came sobbing to her lips as she prayed him. He +could not deny her that prayer. If she would not mount his throne, +she should not—he was King. But that other bidding: Touch me +not, she said. He looked at her sleeping; her bosom filled and +lifted his hand. God have no mercy on him if he denied her that +either. 'So take Thou, God, my heart's desire, if I give her not +hers.' Then he stooped and kissed her forehead; she opened her eyes +and smiled feebly, half awake.</p> +<p>He was not a man, I say it again, at the mercy of women's lure. +Milo was right; he was Tristram, not Galahad nor Lancelot; a man of +cold appetite, a man whose head was master, touched rarely, and +then stirred only to certain deeps. So far as he could love woman +born he loved Jehane, saw her exceedingly lovely, loved her proud +remote spirit, her nobility, her sobriety. He saw her bodily +perfections too, how splendid a person, how sumptuous in hue and +light. Admiring, taking glory in these, yet he required the sting +of another man's hand upon her to seize her for himself. For +purposes of policy, for ends which seemed to him good, he could +have lived with Jehane as a brother with a sister: one thing +provided, Let no other man touch.</p> +<p>Now this policy was imperative, this end God said was good. +Jehane implored with tears, Christ called from the Cross; so King +Richard fell upon his knees and kissed the girl's forehead. When he +left her that morning he sought out Milo and confessed his sins. +Shriven he arose, to do what remained in the west before he could +be crowned in Rouen, and crowned in Westminster.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>LAST <i>TENZON</i> OF BERTRAN DE BORN</h3> +<p>I wish to be done with Bertran de Born, that lagging fox; but +the dogs of my art must make a backward cast if they are to kill +him in the open. I beg the reader, then, to remember that when +Richard left him half-throttled in his own house, and when he had +recovered wind enough to stir his gall, he made preparations for a +long journey to the South. In that scandal concerning Alois of +France he believed he had stuff which might wreck Count Richard +more disastrously than Count Richard could wreck him. He hoped to +raise the South, and thither he went, his own dung-fly, buzzing +over the offal he had blown; and the first point he headed for was +Pampluna across the Pyrenees. It is folly to dig into the mind of a +man diseased by malice; better treat such like sour ground, burn +with lime (or let God burn) and abide the event in faith. If of all +men in the world Bertran hated Richard of Anjou, it was not because +Richard had misused him, but because he had used him too lightly. +Richard, offended with Bertran, gave him a flick on the ear and +sent him to the devil with his japes. He did no more because he +valued him no more. He thought him a perverse rascal, glorious +poet, ill-conditioned vassal, untimely parasite of his father's +realm. He knew he had caused endless mischief, but he could not +hate such a cork on a waterspray. Now, it fretted Bertran to white +heat that he should be despised by a great man. It seemed that at +last he could do him considerable harm. He could embroil him with +two kings, France and England, and induce a third to harass him +from the South. So he crossed the mountains and went into +Navarre.</p> +<p>Over those stony ridges and bare fields Don Sancho was king, the +seventh of his name; and he kept his state in the city of Pampluna. +Reputed the wisest prince of his day, it is certain that he had +need to be so, such neighbours as he had. West of him was Santiago, +south of him Castile. These two urgent kings, edging (as it were) +on the same bench with him, made his seat a shifty comfort. No +sooner had he warmed himself a place than he was hoist to a cold +one. In front of him, over against the sun, he saw Philip of France +pinched to the same degree between England and Burgundy, eager to +stretch his extremities since he could not broaden his sides. Don +Sancho had no call to love France; but he feared England +greatly—the horrible old brindled Lion, and Richard, +offspring of the Lion and the Pard, Richard the Leopard, who made +more songs and fought more quarrels out than any Christian prince. +Here were quodlibets for Don Sancho's logic. In appearance he was a +pale vexed man, with anxious eyes and a thin beard, at which (in +his troubles) he plucked as often as he could afford the hairs. +Next to his bleached lands he loved minstrels and physicians. +Averrhoes was often at his court; so were Guillem of Cabestaing and +Peire Vidal. He knew and went so far as to love Bertran de Born. +Perhaps he was not too good a Christian, certainly he was a very +hungry one; and kings, with the rest of the world, are to be judged +by their necessities, not their professions. So much will suffice, +I hope, concerning Don Sancho the Wise.</p> +<p>In those days which saw Count Richard's back turned on Autafort, +and Saint-Pol's broken at Tours, Bertran de Born came to Pampluna, +asking to be received by the King of Navarre. Don Sancho was glad +to see him.</p> +<p>'Now, Bertran,' says he, 'you shall give me news of poets and +the food of poets. All the talk here is of bad debts.'</p> +<p>'Oy, sire,' says Bertran, 'what can I tell you? The land is in +flames, the women have streaked faces, far and wide travels the +torch of war.'</p> +<p>'I am sorry to hear it,' says King Sancho, 'and trust that you +have not brought one of those torches with you.'</p> +<p>Bertran shook his head; interruptions worried him, for he lived +maddeningly, like a man that has a drumming in his ear.</p> +<p>'Sire,' he said, 'there is a new strife between the Count of +Poictou, "Yea-and-Nay," and the French King on this account: the +Count repudiates Madame Alois.'</p> +<p>'Now, why does he do that, Bertran?' cried King Sancho, opening +his eyes wide.</p> +<p>'Sire, it is because he pretends that his father, the old King, +has done him dishonour. Says the Count, Madame Alois might be my +stepmother, never my wife.'</p> +<p>'Deus!' said the King. 'Bertran, is this the truth?'</p> +<p>That was a question for which Bertran was fully prepared. He +always had it put, and always gave the same answer. 'As I am a +Christian, sire,' he said, 'the Gospel is no truer.'</p> +<p>To which King Sancho replied, 'I do most devoutly believe in the +Holy Gospel, whatever any Arabian may say to the contrary. But is +it for this, pray, that you propose to light candles of war in +Navarre?'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said Bertran, with his hand scratching in his vest, 'I +light no candles, my lord; but I counsel you to light them.'</p> +<p>'Phew!' said King Sancho, and stuck his arms out; 'on whose +account, Bertran, on whose account?'</p> +<p>Bertran replied savagely, 'On account of Dame Alois slandered, +of her brother France deceived in his hope, of the English King +strangely accused, of his son John (a hopeful prince, Benjamin of a +second Israel), and of Queen Eleanor of England, of whose kindred +your Grace is.'</p> +<p>'Deus! Oy, Deus!' cried King Sancho, pale with amazement, 'and +are all these thrones in arms, lighting candles against Count +Richard?'</p> +<p>'It is so indeed, sire,' says Bertran; and King Sancho frowned, +with this comment—'There seems little chivalry here, take it +as you will.' Next he inquired, where was the Count of Poictou?</p> +<p>Bertran was ready. 'He rages his lands, sire, like a leopard +caged. Now and again he raids the marches, harries France or Anjou, +and withdraws.'</p> +<p>'And the King his father, Bertran, where is he? Far off, I +hope.'</p> +<p>'He,' said Bertran, 'is in Normandy with a host, seeking the +head of his son Richard on a charger.'</p> +<p>'The great man that he is!' cried Don Sancho. Bertran could not +contain himself.</p> +<p>'Great or not, he is to pay his debts! The old rascal stag is +rotten with fever.'</p> +<p>I suppose Don Sancho was not called Wise for nothing. At any +rate he sat for a while considering the man before him. Then he +asked, where was King Philip?</p> +<p>'Sire,' replied Bertran, 'he is in his city of Paris, comforting +Dame Alois, and assembling his estates for Count Richard's +flank.'</p> +<p>'And Prince John?'</p> +<p>'Oh, sire, he has friends. He waits. Watch for him +presently.'</p> +<p>King Sancho frowned his forehead into furrows, and allowed +himself a hair or two of his beard. 'We will think of it, Bertran,' +he said presently. 'Yes, we will think of it, after our own +fashion. God rest you, Bertran, pray go refresh yourself.' So he +dismissed him.</p> +<p>When he was alone he went on frowning, and between whiles tapped +his teeth with his beard-comb. He knew that Bertran had not come +lying for nothing to Pampluna; he must find out on whose account he +was lying, and upon what rock of truth (if any at all) he had built +up his lies. Was it because he hated the father, or because he +hated the son? Or because he served Prince John? Let that alone for +a moment. This story of Alois: it must be, he thought, either true +or false, but was no invention of Bertran's. Whichever it was, King +Philip would make war upon King Henry, not upon Richard; since, +wanting timber, you cut at the trunk, not at the branches. He +believed Bertran so far, that the Count of Poictou was in his +country, and King Henry with a host in his. War between Philip and +the Count was a foolishness. Peace between the Count and King Henry +was another. Don Sancho believed (since he believed in God) that +old King Henry was at death's door; and he saw above all things +that, if the scandal was reasonably founded, there would be a +bachelor prince spoiling for wedlock. On all grounds, therefore, he +decided to write privily to his kinswoman, Queen Eleanor of +England.</p> +<p>And so he did, to a very different tune from that imagined by +Bertran, the letter which follows:—</p> +<p>'Madame (Sister and Aunt),' he wrote, 'this day has brought +tidings to my private ear whereat in part I mourn with you, and +rejoice in part, as a wise physician who, hearing of some great +lover in the article of death, knows that he has both the wit and +the remedy to work his cure. Madame, with a hand upon my heart I +may certify the flow of my blood for the causes, serious and +horrific, which have led to strife between your exalted lord and +most dear consort in Christ Jesus, my lord Henry the pious King of +England (whom God assoil) and his august neighbour of France. But, +Madame (Sister and Aunt), it is no less my comfort to affirm that +the estate of your noble son, the Count of Poictou, no less moves +my anguish. What, Madame! So fierce a youth and so strenuous, +widowed of his hopeful bed! The face of Paris with the fate of +Menelaus! The sweet accomplishments of King David (chief of +trobadors) and the ignominy of the husband of Bathsheba! You see +that my eloquence burns me up; and verily, Madame (Sister and +Aunt), the hot coal of the wrath of your son has touched my mouth, +so that at the last I speak with my tongue.</p> +<p>'I ask myself, Madame, why do not the virgins of Christendom +arise and offer their unrifled zones to his noble fingers? Sister +and Aunt, there is one at least, in Navarre, who so arises. I offer +my child Berengère, called by trobadors (because of her +chaste seclusion) Frozen Heart, to be thawed in the sun of your +son. I offer, moreover, my great fiefs of Oliocastro, Cingovilas, +Monte Negro, and Sierra Alba as far as Agreda; and a dowry also of +60,000 marks in gold of Byzance, to be numbered by three bishops, +one each of our choosing, and the third to be chosen by Our lord +and ghostly father the Pope. And I offer to you, Madame (Sister and +Aunt), the devotion of a brother and nephew, the right hand of +concord, and the kiss of peace. I pray God daily to preserve your +Celsitude.—From our court of Pampluna, etc. Under the Privy +Signet of the King himself—Sanchius Navarrensium Rex, +Sapiens, Pater Patriæ, Pius, Catholicus.'</p> +<p>This done, and means taken for sure despatch, he sends for the +virgin in question, and embracing her with one arm, holds her close +to his knee.</p> +<p>'My child,' he says, 'you are to be wedded to the greatest +prince now on life, the pattern of chivalry, the mirror of manly +beauty, heir to a great throne. What do you say to this?'</p> +<p>The virgin kept her eyes down; a very faint flush of rose +troubled her cheek.</p> +<p>'I am in your hands, sire,' she said, whereupon Don Sancho +enfolded her.</p> +<p>'You are in my arms, dear child,' he testified. 'Your lord will +be King of England, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, Count of Anjou, +Poictou, and Maine, and lord of some island in the western sea +whose name I have forgotten. He is also the subject of prophecy, +which (as the Arabians know very well) declares that he will rule +such an empire as Alexander never saw, nor the mighty Charles +dreamed of. Does this please you, my child?'</p> +<p>'He is a very great lord,' said Berengère, 'and will be a +great king. I hope to serve him faithfully.'</p> +<p>'By Saint James, and so you shall!' cried the happy Don Sancho. +'Go, my child, and say your prayers. You will have something to +pray about at last.'</p> +<p>She was the only daughter he had left, exorbitantly loved; a +little creature too much brocaded to move, cold as snow, pious as a +virgin enclosed, with small regular features like a fairy queen's. +She had a narrow mind, and small heart for meeting tribulation, +which, indeed, she seemed never likely to know. Sometimes, being in +her robes of state, crusted with gems, crowned, coifed, ringed, she +looked like nothing so much as a stiff doll-goddess set in glass +over an altar. It was thus she showed her best, when with fixed +eyes and a frigid smile she stood above the court, an +unapproachable glittering star set in the clear sky of a night to +give men hopes of an ordered heaven. It was thus Bertran de Born +had seen her, when for a time his hot and wrong heart was at rest, +and he could look on a creature of this world without desire to mar +it. Half in mockery, half in love, he called her Frozen Heart. +Later on, you remember, he called Jehane Bel Vezer. He was the +nicknamer of Europe in his day.</p> +<p>So now, or almost so, he saw her new come from her father's +side—a little flushed, but very much the great small lady, ma +dame Berengère of Navarre.</p> +<p>'The sun shines upon my Frozen Heart,' said Bertran. She gave +him her hand to kiss.</p> +<p>'No heart of yours am I, Bertran,' she said; 'but chosen for a +king.'</p> +<p>'A king, lady! Whom then?'</p> +<p>She answered, 'A king to be. My lord Richard of Poictou.'</p> +<p>He clacked his tongue on his palate, and bolted this pill as +best he could. Bad was best. He saw himself made newly so great a +fool that he dared not think of it. If he had known at that time of +Richard's dealing with Jehane Saint-Pol, you may be sure he would +have squirted some venom. But he knew nothing at all about it; and +as to the other affair, even he dared not speak.</p> +<p>'A great lord, a hot lord, a very strenuous lord!' he said in +jerks. It was all there was to say.</p> +<p>'He is a prince who might claim a lady's love, I suppose,' said +Berengère, with considering looks.</p> +<p>'Ho ho! And so he has!' cried Bertran. 'I assure your Grace he +is no novice. Many he has claimed, and many have claimed him. Shall +I number them?'</p> +<p>'I beg that you will not,' she said, stiffening herself. So +Bertran grinned his rage. But he had one thing to say.</p> +<p>'This much I will tell you, Princess. The name I give him is +Yea-and-Nay: beware of it. He is ever of two minds: hot head and +cold heart, flaming heart and chilled head. He will be for God and +the enemy of God; will expect heaven and tamper with hell. With +rage he will go up, laughing come down. Ho! He will be for you and +against you; eager, slow; a wooer, a scorner; a singer of +madrigals, ah, and a croaker afterwards. There is no stability in +him, neither length of love nor of hate, no bottom, little faith.' +Berengère rose.</p> +<p>'You vex yourself, Bertran, and me also,' she said. 'It is ill +talking between a prince and his friend.'</p> +<p>'Am I not your friend then, my lady?' he asked her with +bitterness.</p> +<p>'You cannot be the friend of a prince, Bertran,' said +Berengère calmly. His muttered 'O God, the true word!' +sufficed him for thought all his road from Navarre. He went, as you +know already, to Poictiers, where Richard was making festival with +Jehane.</p> +<p>But when, unhappy liar, he found out the truth, it came too late +to be of service to his designs. Don Sancho, he learned, was +beforehand with him even there, fully informed of the outrage at +Gisors and the marriage at Poictiers, with very clear views of the +worth of each performance. Bertran, gnashing his teeth, took up the +service of the man he loathed; gnashing his teeth, he let Richard +kiss him in the lists and shower favours upon him. When presents of +stallions came from Navarre he began to see what Don Sancho was +about. Any meeting of Richard and that profound schemer would have +been Bertran's ruin. So when Richard was King, he judged it time to +be off.</p> +<p>'Now here,' says Abbot Milo, dealing with the same topics, 'I +make an end of Bertran de Born, who did enough mischief in his life +to give three kings wretchedness—the young King Henry, and +the old King Henry, and the new King Richard. If he was not the +thorn of Anjou, whose thorn was he? Some time afterwards he died +alone and miserable, having seen (as he thought) all his plots +miscarry, the object of his hatred do the better for his evil +designs, and the object of his love the better without them. He was +cast off. His peers were at the Holy War, his enemy on a throne. +There had arisen a generation which shrugged at his eld, and +remained one which still thought him a misgoverned youth. Great +poet he was, great thief, and a silly fool. So there's an end of +him: let him be.'</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>CONVERSATION IN ENGLAND OF JEHANE THE FAIR</h3> +<p>It was in the gules of August, we read, that King Richard set +out for his duchy and kingdom, on horseback, riding alone, splendid +in red and gold; Countess Jehane in a litter; his true brother and +his half-brother, his bishops, his chancellor, and his friends with +him, each according to his degree. They went by Alençon, +Lisieux, and Pont l'Evèque to Rouen; and there they found +the Queen-Mother, an unquenchable spirit. One of Richard's first +acts had been to free her from the fortress in which, for ten years +or more, the old King had kept her. There were no prison-traces +upon her when she met her son, and fixed her son's mistress with a +calculating eye. A low-browed, swarthy woman, heavily built, with +the wreck of great beauty upon her, having fingers like the talons +of a bird and a trap-mouth; it was not hard to see that into the +rocky mortice where Richard had been cast there went some grains of +flint from her. She had slow, deliberate movements of the body, but +a darting mind; she was a most passionate woman, but frugal of her +passion, eking it out to cover long designs. Whether she loved or +hated—and she could glow with either lust until she seemed +incandescent—she went slowly to work. The quicker she saw, +the slower she was reducing sight into possession. With all this, +like her son Richard, she was capable of strong revulsions. Thus +she had loved, then hated King Henry; thus she was to spurn, then +to cling to Jehane.</p> +<p>At Rouen she did her best to crush the young girl to the +pavement with her intolerable flat-lidded eyes. When Jehane saw her +stand on the steps of the church amidst the pomp of Normandy and +England—three archbishops by her, William Marshal, William +Longchamp, the earls, the baronage, the knights, heralds, blowers +of trumpets; when at her example all this glory of Church and State +bent the knee to Richard of Anjou, and he, kneeling in turn, kissed +his mother's hand, then rose and to the others gave his to be +kissed; when he, vowed to her, pledged to her, known of her more +secretly than of any, passed through the blare of horns alone into +the soaring nave—Jehane shivered and crossed herself, +faltered a little, and might have fallen. Her King was doing by her +as she had prayed him; but the scrutiny of the Queen-Mother had +been a dry gloss to the text. She had been able to bear her +forsaking with a purer heart, but for the narrow eyes that +witnessed it and gleamed. One of her ladies, Magdalène +Coucy, put an arm about her; so Countess Jehane stiffened and +jerked up her head, and after that walked with no more faltering. +If she had seen, as Milo saw, Gilles de Gurdun glowering at her +from a corner, it might have gone hard with her. But she did +not.</p> +<p>They crowned Richard Duke of Normandy, and to him came all the +barons of the duchy one by one, to do him homage. And first the +Archbishop of Rouen, in whose allegiance was that same Sir Gilles. +But Gilles knew very well that there could be no fealty from him to +this robber of a duke. Gilles had seen Jehane; and when he could +bear the sight no more for fear his eyes should bleed, he went and +walked about the streets to cool his head. He swore by all the +saints in the calendar of Rouen—and these are many—that +he would close this account. Let him be torn apart by horses, he +would kill the man who had stolen his wife and killed his father +and brother, were he duke, king, or Emperor of the West. Meantime, +in the church that golden-haired duke, set high on the throne of +Normandy, received between his hands the hands of the Normans; and +in a stall of the choir Jehane prayed fervently for him, with her +arms enfolding her bosom.</p> +<p>Gilles was seen again at Harfleur, when the King embarked for +England. He had a hood over his head; but Milo knew him by the +little steady eyes and bar of black above. When the great painted +sails bellied to the off-shore wind and the dragon-standard of +England pointed the sea-way northward into the haze, Milo saw +Gilles standing on the mole, a little apart from his friends, +watching the galley which took Jehane out of reach.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>If Milo found the Normans like ginger in the mouth, it is not to +be supposed that the English suited him any better. He calls them +'fog-stewed,' says that they ate too much, and were as proud of +that as of everything else they did. Luckily, he had very little to +do with them, though not much less, perhaps, than his master. Dry +facts content him: how the King disembarked at Southampton and took +horse; how he rode through forests to Winchester; how there he was +met by the bishop, heard mass in the minster, and departed for +Guildford; thence again, how through wood and heath they came to +Westminster 'and a fair church set in meadows by a broad +stream'—to tell this rapidly contents him. But once in London +the story begins to concentrate. It is clear there was danger for +Jehane. King Richard, it seems, caused her to be lodged 'in a place +of nuns over the river, in a place which is called in English +Lamehithe.'</p> +<p>This was quite true; danger there was, as Richard saw, who knew +his mother. But he did not then know how quick with danger the +times were. The Queen-Mother had upon her the letter of Don Sancho +the Wise, and to her the politics of Europe were an open book. One +holy war succeeded another, and one king; but what king that might +be depended neither upon holiness nor war so much as on the way +each was used. Marriage with Navarre might push Anjou across the +mountains; the holy war might lift it across the sea. Who was the +'yellow-haired King of the West' whom they of the East foretold, if +not her goodly son? Should God be thwarted by a ——? She +hesitated not for a word, but I hesitate.</p> +<p>If the Queen-Mother was afraid of anything in the world, it was +of the devil in the race she had mothered. It had thwarted her in +their father, but it cowed her in her sons. Most of all, I think, +in Richard she feared it, because Richard could be so cold. A flamy +devil as in young Henry, or a brimstone devil as in Geoffrey of +Brittany, or a spitfire devil as was John's—with these she +could cope, her lord had had them all. But in Richard she was shy +of the bleak isolation, the self-sufficing, the hard, chill core. +She dreaded it, yet it drew her; she was tempted to beat vainly at +it for the passion's sake; and so in this case she dared to do. She +would cheerfully have killed the minion, but she dared the King +first.</p> +<p>When she opened to him the matter of Don Sancho's letter, none +knew better than Richard that the matter might have been good. Yet +he would have nothing to say to it. 'Madame,' his words were, 'this +is an idle letter, if not impertinent. Don Sancho knows very well +that I am married already.'</p> +<p>'Eh, sire! Eh, Richard!' said the Queen-Mother, 'then he knows +more than I.'</p> +<p>'I think not, Madame,' the King replied, 'since I have this +moment informed you.'</p> +<p>The Queen swallowed this; then said, 'This wife of yours, +Richard, who is not Duchess of Normandy, will not be Queen, I +doubt?'</p> +<p>Richard's face grew haggard; for the moment he looked old. 'Such +again is the fact, Madame.'</p> +<p>'But—' the Queen began. Richard looked at her, so she +ended there.</p> +<p>Afterwards she talked with the Archbishop of Canterbury, with +the Marshal, with Longchamp of Ely, and her son John. All these +worthies were pulling different ways, each trying to get the rope +to himself. With that rope John hoped to hang his brother yet. +'Dearest Madame,' he said, 'Richard cannot marry in Navarre even if +he were willing. Once he has been betrothed, and has broken plight; +once he saw his mistress betrothed, and broke her plight. Now he is +wedded, or says that he is. Suppose that you get him to break this +wedlock, will you give him another woman to deceive? There is no +more faithless beast in the world than Richard.'</p> +<p>'Your words prove that there is one at least,' said the +Queen-Mother with heat. 'You speak very ill, my son.'</p> +<p>Said John, 'And he does very ill, by the Bread!'</p> +<p>William Marshal interposed. 'I have seen much of the Countess of +Anjou, Madame,' said this honest gentleman. 'Let me tell your Grace +that she is a most exalted lady.' He would have said more had the +Queen-Mother endured it, but she cried out upon him.</p> +<p>'Anjou! Who dares put her up there?'</p> +<p>'Madame,' said William, 'it was my lord the King.' The Queen +fumed.</p> +<p>Then the Archbishop said, 'She is nobly born, of the house of +Saint-Pol. I understand that she has a clear mind.'</p> +<p>'More,' cried the Marshal, 'she has a clear heart!'</p> +<p>'If she had nothing clear about her I have that which would +bleach her white enough,' said the Queen-Mother; and Longchamp, who +had said nothing at all, grinned.</p> +<p>In the event, the Queen one day took to her barge, crossed the +river, and confronted the girl who stood between England and +Navarre.</p> +<p>Jehane, who was sitting with her ladies at needlework, was not +so scared as they were. Like the nymphs of the hunting Maid they +all clustered about her, showing the Queen-Mother how tall she was +and how nobly figured. She flushed a little and breathed a little +faster; but making her reverence she recovered herself, and stood +with that curious look on her face, half surprise, half discontent, +which made men call her the sulky fair. So the Queen-Mother read +the look.</p> +<p>'No pouting with me, mistress,' she said. 'Send these women +away. It is with you I have to deal.'</p> +<p>'Do we deal singly, Madame?' said Jehane. 'Then my ladies shall +seek for yours the comforts of a discomfortable lodging. I am sorry +I have no better.' The Queen-Mother nodded her people out of the +room; so she and Jehane were left alone together.</p> +<p>'Mistress,' said the Queen-Mother, 'what is this between you and +my son? Playing and kissing are to be left below the degrees of a +throne. Let there be no more of it. Do you dare, are you so hardy +in the eyes, as to look up to a kingly seat, or measure your head +for a king's crown?'</p> +<p>Jehane had plenty of spirit, which a very little of this sort of +talk would have fanned into a flame; but she had irony too.</p> +<p>'Madame, alas!' she said, with a hint of shrugging; 'if I have +worn the Count's cap I know the measure of my head.'</p> +<p>The Queen-Mother took her by the wrist 'My girl,' said she, 'you +know very well that you are no Countess at all in my son's right, +but are what one of your nurture should not be. And you shall +understand that I am a plain-dealer in such affairs when they +concern this realm, and have bled little heifers like you whiter +than veal and as cold as most of the dead; and will do it again if +need be.'</p> +<p>Jehane did not flinch nor turn her eyes from considering her +whitening wrist.</p> +<p>'Oh, Madame,' she says, 'you will never bleed me; I am quite +sure of that. Alas, it would be well if you could, without +offence.'</p> +<p>'Why, whom should I offend then?' the Queen said, +sniffing—'your ladyship?'</p> +<p>'A greater,' said Jehane.</p> +<p>'You think the King would be offended?'</p> +<p>'Madame,' Jehane said, 'he could be offended; but so would you +be.'</p> +<p>The Queen-Mother tightened hold. 'I am not easily offended, +mistress,' she said, and smiled rather bleakly.</p> +<p>Jehane also smiled, but with patience, not trying to get free +her wrist.</p> +<p>'My blood would offend you. You dare not bleed me.'</p> +<p>'Death in life!' the Queen cried, 'is there any but the King to +stop me now?'</p> +<p>'Madame,' Jehane answered, 'there is the spoken word against +you, the spirit of prophecy.'</p> +<p>Then her jailer saw that Jehane's eyes were green, and very +steady. This checked her.</p> +<p>'Who speaks? Who prophesies?'</p> +<p>Jehane told her, 'The leper in a desert place, saying, "Beware +the Count's cap and the Count's bed; for so sure as thou liest in +either thou art wife of a dead man and of his killer."'</p> +<p>The Queen-Mother, a very religious woman, took this saying +soberly. She dropped Jehane's wrist, stared at and about her, +looked up, looked down; then said, 'Tell me more of this, my +girl.'</p> +<p>'Hey, Madame,' said Jehane, 'I will gladly tell you the whole. +The saying of the leper was very dreadful to me, for I thought, +here is a man punished by God indeed, but so near death as to be +likely familiar with the secrets of death. Such a one cannot be a +liar, nor would he speak idly who has so little time left to pray +in. Therefore I urged my lord Richard by his good love for me to +forgo his purpose of wedding me in Poictiers. But he would not +listen, but said that, as he had stolen me from my betrothed, it +comported not with his honour to dishonour me. So he wedded me, and +fulfilled both terms of the leper's prophecy. Then I saw myself in +peril, and was not at all comforted by the advice of certain nuns, +which was that, although I had lain in the Count's bed, I had not +lain, but had knelt, in the Count's cap; and that therefore the +terms were not fulfilled. I thought that foolishness, and still +think so. But this is my own thought. I have never rightly been in +either as the leper intended, for I do not think the marriage a +good one. If I am no wife, then, God pity me, I have done a great +sin; but I am no Countess of Anjou. So I give the prophet the lie. +On the other hand, if I am put away by my lord the King that he may +make a good marriage, I shall be claimed again by the man to whom I +was betrothed before, and so the doom be in danger of fulfilment. +For, look now, Madame, the leper said, "Wife of a dead man and his +killer"; and there is none so sure to kill the King as Sir Gilles +de Gurdun. Alas, alas, Madame, to what a strait am I come, who +sought no one's hurt! I have considered night and day what it were +best to do since the King, at my prayer, left me; and now my +judgment is this. I must be with the King, though not the King's +<i>mie</i>; because so surely as he sends me away, so surely will +Gilles de Gurdun have me.'</p> +<p>She stopped, out of breath, feeling some shame to have spoken so +much. The Queen-Mother came to her at once, with her hands out. 'By +my soul, Jehane,' she said, 'you are a good woman. Never leave my +son.'</p> +<p>'I never mean to leave him,' said Jehane. 'That is my +punishment, and (I think) his also.'</p> +<p>'His punishment, my child?'</p> +<p>'Why, Madame,' said Jehane, 'you think that the King must +wed.'</p> +<p>'Yes, yes.'</p> +<p>'And to wed, he must put me away.'</p> +<p>'Yes, yes, child.'</p> +<p>'Therefore, although he loves me, he may never have his dear +desire; and although I love him, I may give him no comfort. Yet we +can never leave each other for fear of the leper's prophecy; but he +must always long and I grieve. That, I think, is punishment for a +man and woman.'</p> +<p>The Queen-Mother sobbed. Terrible punishment for a little +pleasant sin! Yet I doubt'—she said, politic through +all—'yet I doubt my son, being a fierce lover, will have his +way with thee.'</p> +<p>Jehane shook her head. 'No means,' she said, drawing in her +breath, 'no means, Madame. I have his life to think of.' Here, +pitying herself, she turned away her face. The Queen-Mother came +suddenly and kissed her. They cried together, Jehane and the flinty +old shrew of Aquitaine.</p> +<p>A pact was made, and sealed with kisses, between these two women +who loved King Richard, that Jehane should do her best to further +the Navarrese match. Circumstance was her friend in this pious +robbery of herself: Richard, who stood so deep engaged in honour to +God Almighty, could get no money.</p> +<p>Busy as he was with one shift after another to redeem his +credit, busy also pushing on his coronation, he yet continued to +see his mistress most days, either walking with her in the garden +of the nuns' house where she lodged, or sitting by her within +doors. At these snatched moments there was a beautiful equality +between them; the girl no longer subject to the man, the man more +master of himself for being less master of her. As often as not he +sat on the floor at her feet while she worked at those age-long +tapestries which her generation loved; leaning his head back to her +knee, he would so lie and search her face, and wonder to himself +what the world to come could have more fair to show than this calm +treasurer of lovely flesh. This was, at the time, her chief glory, +that with all her riches—fragrant allure, soft warmth, the +delicacy, nice luxury of her every part, the glow, the tincture, +the throbbing fire—she could keep a strong hand upon herself; +sway herself modestly; have so much and give so little; be so apt +for a bridal, and yet without a sigh play the nun! 'If she, being +devirginate through me, can cry herself virgin again—then +cannot I, by the King of Heaven?' This was Richard's day-thought, a +very mannish thought; for women do not consider their own beauties +so closely, see no divinity in themselves, and find a man to be a +glorious fool to think one of them more desirable than another. He +never spoke this thought, but worshipped her silently for the most +part; and she, reading the homage of his upturned face, steeled +herself against the sweet flattery, held her peace, and in her +fierce proud mind made endless plots against his.</p> +<p>In silence their souls conversed upon a theme never mentioned +between them. His restless quest of her face taught him much, +disposed him; she, with all the good guile of women to her hand, +waited, judging the time. Then one day as they sat together in a +window she suddenly slipped away from his hand, dropped to her +knees, and began to pray.</p> +<p>For a while he let her alone, finding the act as lovely as she. +But presently he stooped his face till it almost touched her cheek, +and 'Tell me thy prayer, dear heart! Let me pray also!' he +whispered.</p> +<p>'I pray for my lord the King,' she said. 'Let me pray.' But as +he insisted, urging, leaning to her, she drew her head back and +lifted to his view her face, blanched with pure patience.</p> +<p>'O King Christ,' she prayed, 'take from my soiled hand this +sacrifice!'</p> +<p>She prayed to Christ, but looked at Richard. He dared speak for +Christ.</p> +<p>'What sacrifice, my child?'</p> +<p>'I give Thee the hero who has lain upon my breast; I give Thee +the marriage-bed, the cap of the Count. I give Thee the kisses, the +clinging together, the vows, the long bliss where none may speak. I +give Thee the language of love, the strife, the after-calm, the +assurance, the hope and the promise. But I keep, Lord, the memory +of love as a hostage of Thine.'</p> +<p>King Richard, breathless now, looked in her face. It was that of +a mild angel, steadfast, grave, hued like fire, acquainted with +grief. 'O God-fraught! O saint in the battle! O dipped in the +flame! Jehane, Jehane, Jehane! Quicken me!' So he cried in anguish +of spirit.</p> +<p>'Quicken thee, Richard?' she said. 'Nay, but thou art quick, my +King. The Cross hath made thee quick; thou hast given more than +I.'</p> +<p>'I will give all by thy direction,' he said, 'for I know that +thou wilt save my honour.'</p> +<p>'Trust me there,' said Jehane, and let him kiss her cheek.</p> +<p>She got a great hold upon him by these means. Quick with the +Holy Ghost or not, there was no doubting the quickness of his mind. +Here Jehane's wit had not played her false; he read her whole +meaning; she never let go the footing she had gained, but in all +her commerce with him walked a saint, a maid ravished only by a +great thought. Visibly to him she stood symbol of belief, +sacramental, the fire on the altar, the fine shy spirit of love +lurking (like a rock-flower) at the Cross's foot. And so this fire +with which she led him, like the torch she had held up to show him +his earlier way, lifted her; and so she became indeed what she +signified.</p> +<p>She stood very near the Queen-Mother when Richard was crowned +and anointed King of the English, unearthly pure, with eyes like +stars, robed in dull red, crowned herself with silver. All those +about her, marking the respect which the old Queen paid her, scarce +dared lift their eyes to her face. The tall King, stripped to the +shirt, was anointed, then robed, then crowned; afterwards sat with +orb and sceptre to receive homage. Jehane came in her turn to kneel +before him. But her work had been done. That icy stream in the +blood, which is cause and proof at once of the kingly isolation, +was doubly in Richard, first of that name. He beheld her kneeling +at his knee, knew her and knew her not. She with her cold lips +kissed his cold hand. That day had love, by her own desire, been +frozen; and that which was to awaken it was itself numb in +sleep.</p> +<p>On the third of September they crowned him King, and found that +he was to be King indeed. On the same day the citizens of London +killed all the Jews they could find; and Richard banished his +brother John from his dominions in England and France for three +years and three days.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>FROZEN HEART AND RED HEART: CAHORS</h3> +<p>I suppose that the present relations of King Richard and the +Countess of Poictou (as she chose to call herself now) were as +singular as could subsist between a strong man and beautiful woman, +both in love. I am not to extenuate or explain, but say once for +all to the curious that she was never again to him (nor had been +since that day at Fontevrault) what a sister might not have been. +Yet, with all that, it was evident to the world at large that he +was a lover, and she mistress of his mind. Not only implicitly so, +as witnessed their long intercourse of the eyes, their quick +glances, stealthy watching of each other, the little tender acts +(as the giving or receiving of a flower), the brooding silences, +the praying at the same time or place; but explicitly he pronounced +himself her knight. All his songs were of her; he wrote to her many +times a day, and she answered his letters by her page, and kept the +latest of them always within her vest, over against her heart. She +allowed herself more scope than he, trusting herself further: it is +known that she treasured discarded things of his, and went so far +as to wear (she, the Fair-Girdled!) a studded belt of his made to +fit her. She was never without this rude monument of her former +grace. But this was the sum-total of their bodily intercourse, +apart from speech. Of their spiritual ecstasies I have no warrant +to speak, though I believe these were very innocent. She would not +dare, nor he care, to indulge in so laxative a joy.</p> +<p>He conversed with her freely upon all affairs of moment; there +was no constraint on either side. He was even merry in her company, +and astonishingly frank. Singular man! the Navarrese marriage was a +common subject of their talk; she spoke of it with serious mockery +and he with mock seriousness. From Richard it was, 'Countess +Jehane, when the chalk-faced Spaniard reigns you must mend your +manners.' And she might say, 'Beau sire, Madame Berengère +will never like your songs unless you sing of her.' All this served +the girl's private ends. Gradually and gradually she led him to see +that thing as fixed. She did it, as it were, on tiptoe, for she +knew what a shyer he was; but luckily for her schemes, the +Queen-Mother trusted her to the bottom, said nothing and allowed +nothing to be said.</p> +<p>Meantime the affairs of the Crusade conspired with Jehane to +drive Richard once more to church. If he got little money in +England, where abbeys were rich in corn but poor in pelf, and the +barons had been so prompt to rob each other that they could not be +robbed by the King,—he got less in Gaul, eaten up by war for +a hundred years. You cannot bleed a stuck pig, as King Richard +found. England was empty of money. He got men enough; from one +motive or another every English knight was willing to rifle the +East. He had ships enough. But of what use ships and men if there +was no food for them nor money to buy it? He tried to borrow, he +tried to beg, he tried what in a less glorious cause a plain man +would call stealing. King Richard came not of a squeamish race, and +would have sold anything to any buyer, pawned his crown or taken +another man's to get the worth of a company's pay out of it. Fines, +escheats, reliefs, forfeitures, wardships, marriages—he +heaped exaction on exaction, with mighty little result. When his +mind was set he was inexorable, insatiable, without scruple. What +he got only sharpened his appetite for more. King Tancred of Sicily +owed the dowry of Richard's sister Joan. He swore he would wring +that out of him to the last doit. He offered the city of London to +the highest bidder, and lamented the slaughter of the Jews when the +tenders were few. Here was a position to be in! His Englishmen lay +rotting in Southampton town, his ships in Southampton water. His +Normans and Poictevins were over-ripe; he as dry as an unpinched +pear. He saw, to his infinite vexation, his honour again in pawn, +and no means of redeeming it. Jehane, with tears in her voice, +plied the Navarrese marriage with more passion than she would ever +have allowed herself to urge her own. Richard said he would think +of it. 'Now I have him half-way,' Jehane told the Queen-Mother. He +was driven the other half by his banished brother John.</p> +<p>Prince John, bundled out of the country within a week of the +coronation, went to Paris and a pocketful of mischief in which to +put his hand. King Philip, who should have been preparing for the +East, was listening to counsels much more to his liking. Conrad of +Montferrat was there, with large white fingers explaining on the +table, and a large white face set as lightly as a mouse-trap. His +Italian mind, with that strange capacity for subserving business +with passion, had a task of election here. The Marquess knew that +Richard would sooner help the devil than him to Jerusalem; not only +on this account, but on every conceivable account did he hate +Richard. If he could embroil the two leaders of the Crusade, there +was his affair: Philip would need him. In Paris also was Saint-Pol, +fizzling with mischief, and behind him, where-ever he went, stalked +Gilles de Gurdun, murder in his heart. The massive Norman was a +fine foil to the Count: they were the two poles of hatred. The Duke +of Burgundy was not there, but Conrad knew that he could be +counted. Richard owed him (so he said) forty pounds; besides, +Richard had called him a sponge—and it was true. There, +lastly, was Des Barres, that fine Frenchman, ready to hate anybody +who was not French, and most ready to hate Richard, who had broken +up the Gisors wedding and put, single-handed, all the guests to +shame. Now, this was a company after Prince John's own heart. +Standing next to the English throne, he was an excellent footstool; +he felt the delicate position, he was flattered at every turn. The +Marquess found him most useful, not only because he was on better +terms with Philip than himself could hope to be, but because he +understood him better. John knew that there were two tender spots +in that moody King, and he knew which was the tenderer, pardieu! So +Conrad's gross finger, guided by John's, probed the raw of Philip's +self-esteem, and found a rankling wound, very proud flesh. Oh, +intolerable affront to the House of Capet, that a tall Angevin +robber should take up and throw away a daughter of France, and then +whistle you to a war in the East! Prince John, you perceive, knew +where to rub in the salt.</p> +<p>The storm broke when King Richard was again at Chinon. King +Philip sent messengers—William des Barres, the Bishop of +Beauvais, and Stephen of Meaux—about the homage due to him +for Normandy and all the French fiefs. So far well; King Richard +was very urbane, as bland as such an incisive dealer could be. He +would do homage for Normandy, Anjou, and the rest on such and such +a day. 'But,' he added quietly, 'I attach the condition that it be +done at Vézelay, when I am there with my army for the East, +and he with his army.'</p> +<p>The ambassadors demurred, talking among themselves: Richard sat +on immovable, his hands on his knees. Presently the Bishop of +Beauvais, better soldier than priest, stood out from his fellows +and made this remarkable speech:—</p> +<p>'Beau sire, our lord the august King takes it very ill that you +have so long delayed the marriage agreed upon solemnly between your +Grace and Madame Alois his sister. Therefore—' Milo (who was +present) says that he saw his master narrow his eyes so much that +he seemed to have none at all, but 'sockets and blank balls in +them, like statues.' The Bishop of Beauvais, apparently, did not +observe it. 'Therefore,' he went on, orotund, 'our lord the King +desires that the marriage may be celebrated before he sets out for +Acre and the blessed work in those parts. Other matters there are +for settlement, such as the title of the most illustrious Marquess +of Montferrat to the holy throne, in which my master is persuaded +your Grace will conform to his desires. This and other matters a +many.'</p> +<p>The King got up. 'Too many matters, Bishop of Beauvais,' he +said, 'for my appetite, which is poor just now. There is no debate. +Say this to your master, I pay homage where it is due. If by his +own act he prove that it is not due, I will not be blamed. As to +the Marquess, I will never get a kingdom for him, and I marvel that +King Philip can make no better choice than of a man whose only +title is rape, and can get no better ally than the slanderer of his +sister. And upon the subject of that unhappy lady, I tell you this +upon the Holy Gospels, that I will marry King Philip himself before +I will marry her; and so much he very well knows. I am upon the +point to depart in the fulfilment of my vows. Let your master +please himself. He is a bad sailor, he tells me. Am I to think him +a bad soldier? And if so, in such a cause, what sort of a +Christian, what sort of a king, am I to think him?'</p> +<p>The Bishop, his diplomacy at an end, grew very red. He had +nothing to say. Des Barres must needs put in his word.</p> +<p>'Bethink you, fair sire,' he says: 'the Marquess is of my +kindred.'</p> +<p>'Oh, I do think, Des Barres,' the King answered him; 'and I am +very sorry for you. But I am not answerable for the trespasses of +your ancestry.'</p> +<p>Des Barres glared about him, as if he hoped to find a reply +among the joists.</p> +<p>'My lord,' he began again, 'it is laid in charge upon us to +speak the mind of France. Our master is greatly put about in his +sister's affair, and not he only, but his allies with him. Among +whom, sire, you must be pleased to reckon my lord John of +Mortain.'</p> +<p>He had done better to leave John out; Richard's eyes burnt him, +and his voice cut. 'Let my brother John have her, who knows her +rights and wrongs. As for you, Des Barres, take back to your master +your windy conversation, and this also, that I allow no man to +dictate marriages to me.' So said, he broke up the audience, and +would see no more of the ambassadors. They, in two or three days, +departed with what grace they had in them.</p> +<p>The immediate effect of this, you may perhaps expect, was to +drive Richard all the road to Navarre. He was profoundly offended, +so much so that not Jehane herself dared speak to him. As he always +did when his heart mastered his head, he acted now alone and at +once. In the heart we choose to seat rage of all sorts, the purest +and the most base, the most fervent and the most cold. It so +happened that there was business for our King in Gascony, congenial +business. Guillem de Chisi, a vassal of his, had been robbing +pilgrims, so Guillem was to be hanged. Richard went swift-foot to +Cahors, hanged Guillem in front of his own gatehouse, then wrote +letters to Pampluna inviting King Sancho to a conference 'upon many +affairs touching Almighty God and ourselves.' Thus he put it, and +King Sancho needed no accents to the vowels. The wise man set out +with a great train, his virgin with him.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The day of his expectation, King Richard heard mass in a most +unchristian frame of mind. There was no <i>Sursum Corda</i> for +him; but he knelt like a stone image, inert and cold from breast to +backbone; said nothing, moved not. How differently do men and women +stand at the gate of sorrows! Not far off him knelt Countess +Jehane, who in her hands again (it may be said) held up her +bleeding heart. The luxury of this strange sacrifice made the girl +glow like a fire opal; she was in a fierce ecstasy, her lips +parted, eyes half-shut; she breathed short, she panted. There is no +moralising over these things: love is a hearty feeder, and thrives +on a fast-day as well as on a gaudy. By fasting come visions, +tremors, swoonings and such like, dainty perversions of sense. But +part of Jehane's exaltation, you must know, came of another spur. +She had a sure and certain hope; she knew what she knew, though no +other even guessed it. With that to carry she could lift up her +head. No woman in the world need grudge the usurper of place while +she may go on, carrying her title below the heart. More of this +presently. Two hours before noon, in that clear October weather, +over the brown hills came a company of knights on white destriers, +with their pennons flying and white cloaks over their mail, the +outriders of Navarre. They were met in the meadow of the +Charterhouse and escorted to their quarters, which were on the +right of the King's pavilion. That same pavilion was of purple +silk, worked over with gold leopards the size of life. It had two +standards beside it, the dragon of the English, the leopards of +Anjou. The pavilion of King Sancho was of green silk with silver +emblems—a heart, a castle, a stag; Saint George, Saint +Michael, Saint James the Great, and Saint Martin with his split +cloak—a shining place before whose door stood twenty ladies +in white, their hair let loose, to receive Madame Berengère +and minister to her. Chief among these was Countess Jehane. King +Richard was not in his own pavilion, but would greet his brother +king in the hail of the citadel.</p> +<p>So in due time, after three soundings on the silver trumpets and +much curious ceremony of bread and salt, came Don Sancho the Wise +in a meinie of his peers, very noble on a roan horse; and Dame +Berengère his daughter in a wine-coloured litter, with her +ladies about her on ambling palfreys, the colour of burnt grass. +When they took this little princess out of her silken cage the +first face she looked for and the first she saw was that of Jehane +Saint-Pol, who received her courteously.</p> +<p>Jehane always wore sumptuous clothing, being aware, no doubt, +that her person justified the display. For this time she had +dressed herself in silver brocade, let her bosom go bare, and +brought the strong golden plaits round about in her favourite +fashion. Upon her head she had a coronet of silver flowers, in her +neck a blue jewel. All the colour she had lay in her hue of faint +rose, in her hair like corn in the sun, in her eyes of green, in +her deep red lips. But her height, free build, and liberal curves +marked her out of a bevy that glowed in a more Southern fashion. +She had to stoop overmuch to kiss Berengère's hand; and this +made the little Spaniard bite her lip.</p> +<p>Berengère herself was like a bell, in a stiff dress of +crimson sewn with great pearls in leaf and scroll-work. From the +waist upwards she was the handle of the bell. This immoderation of +her clothes, the fright she was in—so nervous at first that +she could hardly stand—became her very ill. She was quite +white in the face, with solemn black eyes, glazed and +expressionless; her little hands stuck out from her sides like a +puppet's. Handsome as no doubt she was, she looked a doll beside +the tall Jehane, who could have dandled her comfortably on her +knee. She spoke no language but her own, and that not the <i>langue +d'oc</i>, but a blurred dialect of it, rougher even than Gascon. +Conversation was very difficult on these terms. At first the +Princess was shy; then (when she grew curious and forgot her +qualms) Jehane was shy. Berengère fingered the jewel in the +other's neck, turned it about, wanted to know whence it had come, +whose gift it was, etc., etc. Jehane blushed to report it the gift +of a friend; whereupon the Princess looked her up and down in a way +that made her hot all over.</p> +<p>But when it came to the time of meeting King Richard, +Berengère's nervous fears came crowding back; the poor +little creature began to shake, clung to Jehane. 'How tall is the +king, how tall is he? Taller than you?' she asked, looking up at +the Picard girl.</p> +<p>'Oh, yes, Madame, he is taller than I.'</p> +<p>'They say he is cruel. Did you—do you think him +cruel?'</p> +<p>'Madame, no, no.'</p> +<p>'He is a poet, they say. Has he made many songs of me?'</p> +<p>Jehane murmured her doubts, exquisitely confused.</p> +<p>'Fifty poets,' continued nestling Berengère, 'have made +songs of me. There is a wreath of songs. They call me Frozen Heart: +do you know why? They say I am too proud to love a poet. But if the +poet is a king! I have a certain fear just now. I think I +will—' She took Jehane's arm—'No! no!' She drew away. +'You are too tall—I will never take your arm—I am +ashamed. I beg you to go before me. Lead the way.'</p> +<p>So Jehane went first of all the ladies who led the Queen to the +King.</p> +<p>King Richard, who himself loved to go splendidly, sat upon his +throne in the citadel looking like a statue of gold and ivory. Upon +his head was a crown of gold, he had a long tunic of white velvet, +round his shoulders a great cope of figured gold brocade, work of +Genoa, and very curious. His face and hands were paler than their +wont was, his eyes frosty blue, like a winter sea that is made +bright, not warm, by the sun. He sat up stiffly, hands on knees; +and all about him stood the lords and prelates of the most +sumptuous court in the West. King Sancho the Wise was ready to +stoop all his wisdom and burden of years before such superb state +as this; but the moment his procession entered the hall Richard +went down from his daïs to meet it, kissed him on the cheek, +asked how he did, and set the careworn man at his ease. As for +Berengère, he took from her of both cheeks, held her small +hand, spoke in her own language honourable and cheerful words, +drove a little colour into her face, screwed a word or two out of +her. Afterwards there was high mass, sung by the Archbishop of +Auch, and a great banquet, served in the cloister-garth of the +Charterhouse under a red canopy, because the hail of the citadel +was too small.</p> +<p>At this feast King Richard played a great part—cheerful, +easy of approach, making phrases like swords, giving and taking the +talk without any advantage of his rank. His jokes had a bite in +them, as when he said of Bertran that the best proof of the +excellence of his verses was that he had undoubtedly made them +himself; or of Averrhoes, the Arabian physician and infidel +philosopher, that the man equalised his harms by poisoning with his +drugs the bodies of those whose minds had been tainted by his +heresies. But he was the first to set the laugh against himself, +and had a flash of Dame Berengère's fine teeth before he had +been ten minutes at table.</p> +<p>After dinner the Kings and their ministers went into debate; and +then it seemed that Richard had got up from his meat perverse. He +would only talk of one thing, namely, sixty thousand gold besants. +On this he harped maddeningly, with calculations of how much +victual the sum would buy, of the weight in ounces, of its content +in sacks in a barn, of the mileage of the coins set edge to edge, +and so on, and so on. Don Sancho sat winking and fidgeting in his +chair, and talked of his illustrious daughter.</p> +<p>'Milled edges they should have, these besants,' says King +Richard, 'whereof, allowing (say) three hundred and fifty to a +piece, we have a surprising total of'—here he figured on the +table, and King Sancho pursued his drift until Richard brought his +hand slamming down—'of one-and-twenty million ridges of gold +upon the treasure!' he concluded with a waggish look. Agreement was +as hard as to prolong parallels to a point. Yet this went on for +some two hours, until, worn frail by such futilities, the Navarrese +chancellor plumply asked his brother of England if King Richard +would marry. 'Marry!' cried he, when they brought him down the +question, 'yes, I am all for marrying. I will marry one-and-twenty +million milled edges, our Saviour!' They reported to King Sancho +the substance of these words, and asked him if such and such would +be the dowry of his lady daughter.</p> +<p>'Ask King Richard if he will have her with that in hand and the +territories demarked,' said Don Sancho.</p> +<p>This was done. Richard grew grave, made no more jokes. He turned +to Milo, who happened to be near him.</p> +<p>'Where is the little lady?' he asked him. Milo looked out of the +window.</p> +<p>'My lord,' he said, 'she is in the orchard at this moment; and I +think the Countess is with her.' Richard blenched, as if he had +been struck with a whip. Collecting himself, he turned and looked +down through the window to the leafy orchard below. He looked long, +and saw (as Milo had seen) the two girls, the tall and the little, +the crimson and the white, standing near together in the shade. +Jehane had her head bent, for Berengère had hold of the +jewel in her bosom. Then Berengère put her arms round the +other's neck and leaned her head where the jewel lay. Jehane +stooped her head lower and lower, cheek touched cheek. At this King +Richard turned about; despair set hard was on his face. He said in +a dry voice, 'Tell the King I will do it.'</p> +<p>In the tedious negotiations of the next few days it was arranged +that the Princess should await the Queen-Mother at Bayonne, and +sail with her and the fleet to Sicily. There King Richard would +meet and marry her. What had passed between her and Jehane in the +orchard, who knows? They kissed at parting; but Jehane neither told +Richard, nor did he ask her, why Berengère had lain her +cheek upon her bosom, or why herself had stooped so low her head. +Women's ways!</p> +<p>So Red Heart made her sacrifice, and Frozen Heart suffered the +Sun; and he they called later Lion-Heart went out to fight Saladin, +and less open foes than he.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a>BOOK II</h2> +<h1>THE BOOK OF NAY</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Ib" id="CHAPTER_Ib"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE CHAFFER CALLED MATE-GRIFON</h3> +<p>Differing from the Mantuan as much in sort as degree, I sing +less the arms than the man, less the panoply of some Christian king +offended than the heart of one in its urgent private transports; +less treaties than the agony of treating, less personages than +persons, the actors rather than the scene. Arms pass like the +fashion of them, to-day or to-morrow they will be gone; but men +live, their secret springs what they have always been. How the two +Kings, then, smeared over their strifes at Vézelay; how John +of Mortain was left biting his nails, and Alois weeping at the foot +of a cross; how Christian armies like dusty snakes dragged their +lengths down the white shores of Rhone, and how some took ship at +Marseilles, and some saved their stomachs at the cost of their +shoes; of King Richard's royal galley <i>Trenchemer</i>, a red ship +with a red bridge, and the dragon at the mast; of the shields that +made her bulwarks terrible; of who went adventurous and who +remained; of a fleet that lay upon the waters like a flock of +sea-gulls—countless, now at rest, now beating the sea into +spumy wrath; of what way they made, qualms they suffered, prayers +they said in their extremity, vows they made and afterwards broke, +thoughts they had and afterwards were ashamed of—of these and +all such things I must be silent if I am to make a good end to my +history. It shall be enough for you that the red ship held King +Richard, and King Richard his own thoughts, and that never far from +him, in a ship called <i>Li Chastel Orgoilous</i>, sat Jehane with +certain women of hers, nursing her hope and a new and fearful +wonder she had. Prayer sits well in women, and age-long watching: +one imagines that Jehane never left the poop through those long +white days, those burning nights; but could always be seen or felt, +a still figure sitting apart, elbow on knee, chin in hand-like a +Norn reading fate in the starred web of the night. In the dark +watches, when the ships lay drifting under the stars, or lurched +forward as the surges drove them on, and the tinkling of the water +against the side was all the sound, some woman's voice (not +Jehane's) would be heard singing faint and far off, some little +shrill and winding prayer.</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Saincte Catherine,<br /> +Vélà la nuict qui gagne!</div> +<p>they would hear, and hang upon the cadence. At such times +Richard, stretched upon his lion-skin, would raise himself, and +lift up his face to the immense, and with his noble voice make the +darkness tremble as he sang—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Domna, dels angels regina,<br /> +Domna, roza ses espina,<br /> +Domna, joves enfantina,<br /> +Domna, estela marina,<br /> +De las autras plus luzens!</div> +<p>But so soon as his voice filled the night, the woman's faltered +and died; and he, holding on for a stave or more, would stop on a +note that had a wailing fall, and the lapping of the waves or cry +of hidden birds take up the rule again. This did not often obtain. +Mostly he watched out the night, sleeping little, talking none, but +revolving in his mind the great deeds to do. By day he was master +of the fleet, an admirable seaman who, knowing nothing of ships' +business before he embarked, dared not confess so much to himself. +Richard must be leader if he was to be undertaker at all. So he led +his fleet from his first hour with it, and brought it safely into +the roadstead.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They made Messina prosperously, a white city cooped within +walls, with turrets and belfries and shining domes, stooping +sharply to the violet sea. King Philip with his legions was to have +come by land as far as Genoa, and was not expected yet awhile. Nor +was there any sign of the Queen-Mother, of Berengère, or of +the convoy from Navarre.</p> +<p>A landing was made in the early morning. Before the Sicilians +were well awake Richard's army was in camp, the camp entrenched, +and a most salutary gallows set up just outside it, with a thief +upon it as a warning to his brothers of Sicily. So far good. The +next thing was an embassy to King Tancred, the Sicilian King, which +demanded (1) the person of Queen Joan (Richard's sister), (2) her +dowry, (3) a golden table twelve foot long, (4) a silk tent, and +(5) a hundred galleys fitted out for two years. This despatched, +Richard entertained himself with his hawks and dogs, and with short +excursions into Calabria. On one of these he went to visit the +saintly Abbot Joachim, at once prophet and philosopher and man of +cool sense; and on another to kill wild boars. When he came back in +October from the second of these, he found matters going rather +ill.</p> +<p>King Tancred avoided seeing him, sent no tables, nor ships, nor +dowry. He did send Queen Joan, and Queen Joan's bed; moreover, +because she had been Queen of Sicily, he sent a sack of gold coins +for her entertainment; but he did not propose to go any further. +Richard, seeing what sort of courses his plans were likely to take, +crossed once more into Calabria, attacked a fortified town which +the Sicilians had settled, turned the settlers out, and established +his sister there with Jehane, her shipload of ladies, and a strong +garrison. Then he returned to Messina.</p> +<p>Certainly, he saw, his camp there could be of no long tenure. +The Grifons, as they called the inhabitants, were about it like +hornets; not a day passed without the murder of some man of his, or +an ambush which cost him a score. Thieving was a courtesy, raiding +an amenity in a Grifon, it appeared. Richard, hoping yet for the +dowry and a peaceful departing, had laid a strict command that no +harm should be done to any one of them unless he should be caught +bloody-handed. 'Well and good!' writes Milo; 'but this meant to say +that no man might scratch himself for fear he should kill a louse.' +Nature could not endure such a direction, so Richard then (whose +own temper was none of the longest) let himself go, fell upon a +party of these brigands, put half to the sword and hanged the other +half in rows before the landward gate of Messina. You will say that +this did not advance his treaty with King Tancred; but in a sense +it did. When the Messenians came out of their gates to attack him +in open field, it was found and reported by Gaston of Béarn, +who drove them in with loss, that William des Barres and the Count +of Saint-Pol had been with them, each heading a company of knights. +Richard flew into a royal, and an Angevin, rage. He swore by God's +back that he would bring the walls flat; and so he did. 'This is +the work of that little pale devil of France, then,' he said. 'A +likely beginning, by my soul! Now let me see if I can bring two +kings to reason at once.'</p> +<p>He used the argument of the long arm. Bringing up his engines +from the ships, he pounded the walls of Messina to such purpose +that he could have walked in barefoot in two or three places. King +Tancred came in person to sue for peace; but Richard wanted more +than dowry by this time. 'The peace you shall have,' he said, 'is +the peace of God which passeth understanding, and for which, I take +it, you are not yet ready, unless you bring hither with you Philip +of France.' This the unfortunate Tancred really could not do; but +he did bring proxies of Philip's. Saint-Pol came, Des Barres, and +the Bishop of Beauvais with his russet, soldier's face. King +Richard sat considering these worthy men.</p> +<p>'Ah, now, Saint-Pol, you are playing a good part in this +Christian adventure, I think!' he broke out after a time. Saint-Pol +squared his jaw. 'If I had caught you in your late sally, my +friend,' Richard went on, 'I should have hanged you on a tree, +knight or no knight. Why, fool, do you think your shameful brother +worth so much treachery? With him before your eyes can you do no +better? I hope so. Get you back, and tell King Philip this: He and +I are vowed to honesty; but if he breaks faith again, I have that +in me which shall break him. As for you, Bishop of +Beauvais'—one saw the old war-priest blink—'I know +nothing of your part in this business, and am willing to think +charitably. If you, an old man, have any of the grace of God left +in you, bestow some of it on your master. Teach him to serve God as +you serve Him, Beauvais. I will try to be content with that.' He +turned to Des Barres, the finest soldier of the three. 'William,' +he said more gently, for he really liked the man, 'I hope to meet +you in a better field, and side by side. But if face to face again, +William,' and he lifted his hand, 'beware of me.'</p> +<p>None of them had a word to say, but with troubled faces left the +presence; which shows (to some men's thinking) that Richard's +strength lay in his cause. That was not the opinion of Des Barres, +nor is it mine. Meeting them afterwards, when he made a pact of +friendship and alliance with Tancred, and renewed that which he had +had with Philip, he showed them a perfectly open countenance. +Nevertheless, he took possession of Messina, as he had said he +would, and built a great tower upon the wall, which he called +Mate-Grifon. Then he sent for his sister and Jehane, and kept a +royal Christmas in the conquered city.</p> +<p>Trouble was not over. There were constant strifes between nation +and nation, man and man. Winter storms delayed the Queen-Mother; +Richard fretted and fumed at the wasting of his force, but saw not +the worst of the matter. If vice was eating his army, jealousy was +eating Philip's sour little heart, and rage that of Saint-Pol. +Saint-Pol, with Gurdun to back him, had determined to kill the +English King; with them went, or was ready to go, Des Barres. He +was not such a steady hater by any means. Some men seek temptation, +others fall under it; Des Barres was of this kind.</p> +<p>Of temptation there was a plenty, since Richard was the most +fearless of men. When he had forgiven an injury it did not exist +for him any more. He was glad to see Des Barres, glad to play, +talk, grumble, or swear with him—a most excellent enemy. One +day, idling home from a hawking match, he got tilting with the +Frenchman, with reeds for lances. Neither seemed in earnest until +Richard's horse slipped on a loose stone and threw him. This was +near the gate. You should have seen the change in Des Barres. 'Hue! +Hue! Passavant!' he yelled, possessed with the devil of +destruction; and came pounding at Richard as if he would ride over +him. At the battle-cry a swarm of fellows—Frenchmen and +Brabanters—came out and about with pikes. Richard was on his +feet by that time, perfectly advised what was astir. He was alone, +but he had a sword. This he drew, and took a stride or two towards +Des Barres, who had pulled up short of him, and was panting. The +pikemen, who might have hacked him to pieces, paused for another +word. A second of time passed without it, and Richard knew he was +safe. He went up to Des Barres.</p> +<p>'Learn, Des Barres,' he said, 'that I allow no cries about my +head save those for Saint George.'</p> +<p>'Sire,' said Des Barres, 'I am no man of yours.'</p> +<p>'It is truly said,' replied Richard, 'but I will dub you one'; +and he smote him with the flat of his sword across the cheek. The +blood leapt after the sword.</p> +<p>'Soul of a virgin!' cried Des Barres, white as cloth, except for +the broad weal on his face.</p> +<p>'Your soul against mine, graceless dog,' said the King. 'Another +word and I pull you down.' Just then who should come riding out of +the gate but Gilles de Gurdun, armed cap-a-pie?</p> +<p>'Here, my lord,' said Des Barres, clearing his throat, 'comes a +gentleman who has sought your Grace with better cause than +mine.'</p> +<p>'Who is your gentleman?' Richard asked him.</p> +<p>'It is De Gurdun, sire, a Norman knight whose name should be +familiar.'</p> +<p>'I know him perfectly,' said Richard. He turned to one of the +bystanders, saying, 'Fetch that gentleman to me.' The man ran +nimbly to meet De Gurdun.</p> +<p>Des Barres, watching narrowly, saw Gilles start, saw him look, +almost saw the bracing of his nerves. What exactly followed was +curious. Gilles moved his horse forward slowly. King Richard, +standing in leather doublet and plumed cap, waited for him, his +arms folded. Des Barres on horseback, an enemy; the bystanders, +tattered, savage, high-fed men, enemies also; in front the most +implacable enemy of all.</p> +<p>When De Gurdun was within spear-reach he stopped his horse and +sat looking at the King. Richard returned the look; it was an +eyeing match, soon over. Gurdun swung off the horse, threw the rein +to a soldier, and tried footing it. The steady duel of the eyes +continued until Gilles was actually within sword's distance. Here +he stopped once more; finally gave a queer little grunt, and went +down on one knee. Des Barres sighed as he eased his heart. The +tension had been terrible.</p> +<p>Richard said, 'De Gurdun, stand up and answer me. You seek my +life, as I understand. Is it so?'</p> +<p>Sir Gilles began to stammer. 'No man has loved the law—no +knight ever loved lady—' and so on; but Richard cut him +short.</p> +<p>'Answer me, man,' he said, in a voice which was nearly as dry as +his father's, 'do you wish for my life?'</p> +<p>'King,' said Gilles, his great emotion lending him dignity, 'if +I do, is it a strange matter? You have had my father's and +brother's. You have mine in your hand. You corrupted and then stole +my beloved. Are these no griefs?'</p> +<p>Richard grew impatient; he could never bear waiting.</p> +<p>'Do you wish my life?' he asked again. Gilles was overwrought. +'By God on high, but I do wish it!' he cried out, almost +whimpering.</p> +<p>King Richard threw down his sword. 'Take it then, you fool,' he +said. 'You talk too much.'</p> +<p>A silence fell upon the party, so profound that the cicala in +the dry hedge shrilled to pierce the ear. Richard stood like a +stock, with Des Barres gaping at him. Gurdun was all of a tremble, +but swung his sword about in his sword-hand. After a while he took +a deep breath, a fumbling step forward; and Des Barres, leaning out +over the saddle, caught him by the surcoat.</p> +<p>'Drop that man, Des Barres,' said Richard, without moving his +eyes from the Norman. Des Barres obeyed; and as the silence resumed +Gilles began twitching his sword again. When a lizard rustled in +the grass a man started as if shot.</p> +<p>Gilles gave over first, threw his sword away with a sob. 'God +ha' mercy, I cannot! I cannot!' he fretted, and stood blinking the +tears from his eyes. Richard picked up his weapon and returned it +to him. 'You are brave enough, my friend,' he said, 'for better +work. Go and do better in Syria.'</p> +<p>'There is no better work for me, sir,' said Gurdun, 'unless you +can justify yourself.'</p> +<p>'I never justify myself,' said Richard. 'Give me my sword.' De +Gurdun gave it him. Richard sheathed it, went to his horse, +mounted, rode away at walking pace. Nobody moved till he was out of +sight. Then said Des Barres with a high oath, 'I could serve that +King if he would let me.'</p> +<p>'God damn him,' said Gilles de Gurdun for his part.</p> +<p>It was near the end of January when they sighted over sea the +painted sails of the Queen. Mother's galley. Her fleet anchored in +the roads, and the lady came ashore. She had two interviews, one +with her son, one with Jehane. But she did not choose to see her +daughter, Queen Joan, a very handsome, free lady.</p> +<p>'Marriage!' cried King Richard, when this was broached. 'This is +no time to talk of marriage. I have waited six months, and now the +lady must wait a while, other six if needs be. We leave this +accursed island in two days. Between my friends and my enemies I +have fought the length and breadth of it twice over. Am I to spend +my whole host killing Christians? A little more inactivity, good +mother, and I shall be in league with the Soldan against Philip. +Bring the lady to Acre, and I will marry her there.'</p> +<p>'No, no, Richard,' said the Queen-Mother; 'I am needed in +England. I cannot come.'</p> +<p>'Then let Joan take her,' said the King.</p> +<p>The Queen-Mother, knowing him very well, tried him no further. +She sent for Jehane, and held her close in talk for nearly an +hour.</p> +<p>'Never leave my son, Jehane,' was the string she harped on. +'Never leave him for good or ill weather. Mated or unmated, never +leave him.'</p> +<p>'Never in life, Madame,' said Jehane, then bit her lip lest she +should utter what her mind was full of. But the Queen-Mother had no +eyes.</p> +<p>'Pray for him,' she said; and Jehane, 'I pray hourly, Madame.' +Then the Queen kissed her on both cheeks, and in such kindness they +parted.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIb" id="CHAPTER_IIb"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>OF WHAT JEHANE LOOKED FOR, AND WHAT BERENGÈRE HAD</h3> +<p>Milo the abbot writes, 'When the spring airs, moving warmly over +the earth, ruffled the surface of the deep, and that to a tune so +winning that there was no thought of the treachery below, we took +to the ships and steered a course south-east by south. This was in +the quindenes of Easter. The two queens (if I may call them so, of +whom one had been and one hoped to be of that estate), Joan and +Berengère, went in a great ship which they call a dromond, a +heavy-timbered ship carrying a crowd of sail. With them, by request +of Madame Berengère, went Countess Jehane, not by any +request of her own. The King himself led her aboard, and by the +hand into the state pavilion on the poop.</p> +<p>'"Madame," he said to his affianced, "I bring you your desired +mate. Use her as you would use me, for if I have a friend upon +earth it is she."</p> +<p>'"Oh, sire," says Berengère, "I am acquainted with this +lady. She has nothing to fear from me."</p> +<p>'Queen Joan said nothing, being afraid of her brother. So Madame +Jehane kissed the hands of the pair of queens, meekly kneeling to +each in turn; and so far as I know she did them faithful service +through all the mischances of a voyage whereon every woman and +every other man was horribly sick.</p> +<p>'Having made the Pharos in favourable weather, and kept Mount +Gibello and the wild Calabrian coast upon our lee (as is fitting), +we stood out for the straight course over the immense waste of +water. Now was no more land to be seen at either hand; but the sky +fitted close upon the edges of the sea like a dome of glass on a +man's forehead. There was neither cover from the sun nor +hiding-place from the prying concourse of the stars; the wind came +searchingly, the waters stirred beneath it, or, being driven, +heaped themselves up into towers of ruin. The cordage flacked, the +strong ribs creaked; like a beast over-burdened the whole ship +groaned, wallowing in a sea-trough without breath to climb. So we +endured for many days, a straggling host of men, ordinarily +capable, powerless now beneath that dumb tyrant the sky. Where else +could be our refuge? We all looked to King Richard—by day to +his royal ensign, by night to the great wax candle which he always +had lighted and stuck in a lantern. His commands were shouted from +ship to ship over two miles or more of sea; if any strayed or +dropped behind we lay-to that he might come up. But very often, +after a day's idle rolling, we knew that the sea had claimed some +boatload of our poor souls, and went on. The galleys kept touch +with the dromonds, enclosing them (as it were) within the cusps of +a new moon, and so driving them forward. To see this light of our +King's moving, now fast, now slow, now up, now down, restlessly +over the field of the night, was to remember the God of the +Israelites, who (for their sakes and ours) became a pillar of fire +at that season, and transformed himself into a tall cloud in the +daytime. Busy as it was, this point of light, it only figured the +unresting spirit of the King, careful of all these children of his, +ordering the hosts of the Lord.</p> +<p>'Storms drove us at length on to the island of Crete, where +Minos once had his kingly habitation, and his wife died of +pleasure. Again they drove us, more unfortunately, out of our +course upon the inhospitable coasts of Rhodes, where the salt wind +suffers no trees to live, nor safe anchorage to be, nor shelter +from the ravage of the sea. In this vexed place there was no sign +of land but a long line of surf beating upon a rocky shore, the +mist of spray and blown sand, spars of drowned ships, innumerable +anxious flocks of birds. Here was no roadstead for us; yet here, +but for the signal providence of heaven, we had likely all have +perished (as many did perish), miserably failing at once of +purpose, the sacraments of Christ, and reasonable beds. The fleet +was scattered wide, no ship could see his neighbour; we called on +the King, on the Saviour, on the Father of all. But deep answered +to deep, and the prayer of so many Christians, as it appeared, +skilled little to change the eternal purposes of God.</p> +<p>'Then one inspired among us climbed up to the masthead, having +in his teeth a piece of the True Cross set in a silver heart; and +called aloud to the wild weather, "Save, Lord, we perish!" as was +said of old by very sacred persons. To which palpable truth so +urgently declared an answer was vouchsafed, not indeed according to +our full desires, yet (doubtless) level with our deserts. The wind +veered to the north; and though it abated nothing of its force, +preserved us from the teeth of the rocks. Before it now, under bare +poles, without need of oars, we drove to the southward; and while a +little light still endured descried a great mountainous and naked +coast rising out of the heaped waters, which we knew to be the land +of Cyprus. Off the western face of this dark shore, in a little +shelter at last, we lay-to and tossed all night. Next day in fairer +weather, hoisting sail, we made a good haven defended by stout +sea-walls, a mole and two lighthouses: these were of a city called +Limasol. Upon my galley, at least, there was one who sang <i>Lauda +Sion</i>, whose tune before had been <i>Adhæsit +pavimento</i>, when he rested tired eyes upon the clustered spires +of a white city, smokeless and asleep in the early morning +light.'</p> +<p>So far without weariness I hope Milo may have conducted the +reader. In relation to the sea you may take him for an expert in +the terrors he describes. Not so in Cyprus. War tempts him to +prolixity, to classical allusion, even to hexameters of +astonishingly loose joints. Every stroke of his hero's sword-arm +seems to him of weight. No doubt it was, once; but not in a +chronicle of this sort, where the Cypriote gests must take a lowly +place among others fair and foul of this King-errant. Let me put +Milo on the shelf for a little, and abridge.</p> +<p>I tell you then that the Emperor of Cyprus, by name Isaac, was a +thin-faced man with high cheek-bones. A Greek of the Greeks, he +undervalued what he had never seen, precisely for that reason. When +heralds went up to Nikosia to announce the coming-in of King +Richard, Isaac mumbled his lips. 'Prutt!' he said, 'I am the +Emperor. What have I to do with your kings?' Richard showed him +that with one king he had plenty to do, by assaulting Limasol and +putting armies to flight in the plains about Nikosia. Shall I sing +the battle of the fifty against five thousand; tell how King +Richard with precisely half a hundred knights came cantering +against the sun and a host, as gay and debonair as to a driving of +stags? They say that he himself led the charge, covered in a +wonderful silken surcoat, colour of a bullfinch's breast, and +wrought upon in black and white heraldry. They say that at the +sight of the pensils a-flutter, at the sound of the hunting-horns, +the Grifons let fly a shaft a-piece; then threw down their bows and +scattered. But the knights caught them. Isaac was on a hill to +watch the battle. 'Who is that marvellous tall knight who seems to +be swimming among my horse?' 'Splendour, it is Rikardos, King of +the West,' they told him, 'reputed a fierce swimmer.' 'He drowns, +he drowns!' cried the Emperor, as the red plumes were whelmed in +black. 'Nay, but he dives rather, Majesty.' He heard the +death-shouts, he saw white faces turned his way; then the mass was +cleft asunder, blown off and dispersed like the sparks from a +smithy. The thing was of little moment in a time of much; there was +no fighting left in the Cypriotes after that sunny morning's work. +Nikosia fell, and the Emperor Isaac, in silver chains, heard from +his prison-house the shouts which welcomed the Emperor Richard. +These things were accomplished by the first week in May. Then came +Guy of Lusignan with bad news of Acre and worse of himself. Philip +was before the town, Montferrat with him. Montferrat had the +Archduke's of Austria as well as French support; with these +worthies, and the ravished wife of old King Baldwin for title-deed, +he claimed the throne of Jerusalem; and King Guy of Lusignan (but +for the name of the thing) was of no account at all. Guy said that +the siege of Acre was a foppery. King Philip was ill, or thought he +was; Montferrat was treating with Saladin; the French knights +openly visited the Saracen women; and the Duke of Burgundy got +drunk. 'What else could he get, poor fool?' asked Richard; then +said, 'But I promise you this: Montferrat shall never be King of +Jerusalem while I live—not because I love you, my friend, but +because I love the law. I shall come as soon as I can to Acre, when +I have done here the things which must be done.' He meant his +marriage.</p> +<p>Little Madame Berengère was lodged, as became her, in the +Emperor's palace at Limasol, having with her Queen Joan of Sicily, +and among her women the young fair lady Jehane, none too fair, poor +girl, by this time. Berengère herself, who was not very +intelligent, remarked her, and gave her the cold shoulder. As day +swallowed up day, and Richard, at his affairs, gave her no thought, +or at least no sign, Jehane's condition became an abominable +eyesore to the Queendesignate; so Queen Joan plucked up her courage +age to the point, and seeking out her brother, let him know that +she had tidings for his private ear.</p> +<p>'I do not admit that I have such an ear,' said Richard. It is no +part of a king's baggage. Yet by all means name your tidings, my +sister.'</p> +<p>'Dear sire,' said Joan, 'it appears that you have sown a seed, +and must look before long for the harvest.' The King laughed.</p> +<p>'God knows, I have sown enough seeds. But mostly they come up +tares, I am apt to find. My harvesting is of little worth. What +now, sister?'</p> +<p>'Beau sire,' says the Queen, I know not how you will take it. +Your bonamy, the Picardy lady, is with child, and not so far from +her time neither. My sister Berengère is greatly +offended.'</p> +<p>King Richard began to tremble; but whether from the ague which +was never long out of him, or from joy, or from trouble, who +knows?</p> +<p>'Oh, sister,' he said, 'Oh, sister, are you very sure of +this?</p> +<p>'I was sure of it,' replied the lady, 'the moment I saw her in +the autumn at Messina. But now your question is not worth the +asking.'</p> +<p>The King abruptly left his sister and went over to the Queen's +side of the palace. Berengère was sitting upon a balcony, +all her ladies with her; but Jehane a little apart. When the King +was announced all rose to their feet. He looked neither right nor +left of him, but fixedly at Jehane, with a high bright flush upon +his sharp face and fever sparks in his eyes. To these signals +Jehane, because of her great exaltation, flew the answering flags. +Richard touched Berengère's hand with the hair on his lip: +to Jehane he said, 'Come, ma mye,' and led her out of the +balcony.</p> +<p>This was not as it should have been; but Richard, used to his +way, took it, and Richard moved could move bigger mountains than +those of ceremony. He lunged forward along the corridors, Jehane +following as she might, led by the hand, but not against her will. +No doubt she was with child, no doubt she was glorious on that +account. She was a very proud girl.</p> +<p>Alone, those two who had loved so fondly gazed each at the work +wrought upon the other without a word said, the King all luminous +with love, and she all dewy. If soul spoke to soul ever in this +world, said Richard's soul, 'O Vase, that bearest the pledge of my +love!' and hers, 'O Strong Wine, that brimmest in my cup!'</p> +<p>He came forward and embraced her with his arm. He felt her heart +beat, he guessed her pride; he felt her thrill, he knew his own +defeat. He felt her so strong and salient under his hand—so +strong, so full-budded, so hopeful of fruit—that despair of +her loss seized him again, terrible rage. He sickened, while in her +the warm blood leaped. He wanted everything; she, nothing in the +world. He, the king of men, was the bond; she, the cast-off minion, +she, this Jehane Saint-Pol, was the free. So God, making war upon +the great, rights the balances of this world.</p> +<p>But he was extraordinarily gentle with her; he gripped himself +and throttled the animal close. Gaining grace as he went, his heart +throve upon its own blood. Balm was shed on his burning face, he +sucked peace as it fell. Then he, too, discerned the God near by; +to him, too, came with beating wings the pure young Love, that best +of all, which hath no needs save them of spending.</p> +<p>His voice was hushed to a boy's murmur.</p> +<p>'Jehane, ma mye, is it true?'</p> +<p>'I am the mother of a son,' she said.</p> +<p>'Give God the glory!'</p> +<p>But she said, 'He hath given it to me.' Her face was turned to +where God might be: Richard, looking down, kissed her on the mouth. +Tremblingly they kissed and long, not as young lovers, but as +spouse and spouse, drinking their common joy.</p> +<p>After a while his present troubles came thronging back, and he +said bitterly: 'Ah, child, thou art widowed of me while yet we both +live. Yet it was in thy power to be mother of a king.'</p> +<p>Said she, leaning her head on his breast, 'Every woman that +beareth a child is mother of a king; but not every woman's child +hath a king to his father. Thus it is with me, Richard, who am +doubly blessed.'</p> +<p>'Ah, God!' he cried, poignantly concerned, 'Ah God, Jehane, see +what trammels I have enmeshed us in, thee in one net and me in +another! So that neither can I help thee, being roped down to this +work, nor thou thyself, trapped by my fault. How shall I do? Lo, my +sin, my sin! I cried Yea; and now cometh God, and, Nay, King +Richard, He saith. The sin is mine, and the burden of the sin is +thine. Is this a horrible thing?</p> +<p>Jehane smiled up in his face. 'And dost thou think it, Richard, +a burden so grievous,' she said, 'to be mother of thy son? Dost +thou think that the world can be harsh to me after that; or that in +the life to come there will be no remembrance to make the long days +sweet?' She looked very proudly upon him, smiling all the time; she +put her hands up and crowned his head with them. 'Oh, my dear life, +my pride and my master,' said Jehane, 'let all come to me that must +come now; I am rich above all my desires, and my lowliness has been +of no account with God. Now let me go, blessing His name.'</p> +<p>He would not let her go, but still looked earnestly down at her, +struggling with himself against himself.</p> +<p>'I must be married, Jehane,' says he presently. And she, 'In a +good hour, my lord.'</p> +<p>'It is an accursed hour,' he said; 'nothing but ill can come of +it.'</p> +<p>'Lord,' said she, 'thou art vowed to this work.'</p> +<p>'I know it very well,' he replied; 'but a man does as he +can.'</p> +<p>'You, my King Richard, do as you will,' said Jehane. So he +kissed her and let her go.</p> +<p>Among the multitudinous affairs now heaped upon +him—business of his new empire and his old, business of +Guy's, business of the war, business of marriage—he set first +and foremost this business of Jehane's. He removed her from the +Queen's house, gave her house and household of her own. It was in +Limasol, a pleasant place overlooking the sea and the ships, a +square white house set deep in myrtle woods and oleanders. Once +more the 'Countess of Poictou' had her seneschal, chaplain, ladies +of honour. That done, he fixed Saint Pancras' day for his marriage, +had the ships got out, furnished, and appointed for sea. The night +before Saint Pancras he sent for Abbot Milo in a hurry. Milo found +him walking about his room, taking long, carefully accurate strides +from flagstone to flagstone.</p> +<p>He continued this feverish devotion for some minutes after his +confessor's coming-in; and seeing him deep in thought, the good man +stood patient by the doorway. So presently Richard seemed aware of +him, stopped in mid walk, and looking at him, said—</p> +<p>'Milo, continence is, I suppose, of all virtues the most +excellent?' Milo prepared to expatiate.</p> +<p>'Undoubtedly, sire, it is so, because of all virtues the least +comfortable. Saint Chrysostom, indeed, goes so far as to +declare—'; but Richard broke in.</p> +<p>'And therefore, Milo, it is urged upon the clergy by the +ordinances of many honourable popes and patriarchs?'</p> +<p>'<i>Distinguo</i>, sire,' said Milo, '<i>distinguo</i>. There +are other reasons. It is written, So run that ye may obtain. Now, +no man can run after the prize we seek if he carrieth a woman on +his back. And that for two reasons: first, because she is so much +dead weight; and second, because a woman is so made that, if her +bearer did achieve the reward, she would immediately claim a share +in it. But that is no part of the divine plan, as I understand +it.'</p> +<p>'Let us talk of the laity, Milo,' said the King, abstractedly. +'If one of them set up for a runner, should he not be a +virgin?'</p> +<p>'Lord,' replied the abbot, 'if he can. But that is not so +convenient.'</p> +<p>'How not so?' asked King Richard.</p> +<p>'My lord,' Milo said, if all the laity were virgins there would +soon be no laity at all, and then there would be no priests—a +state of affairs not provided for by the Holy Church. Moreover, the +laity have a kingdom in this world; but the religious not of this +world. Now, this world is too excellent a good place not to be +peopled; and God hath appointed a pleasant way.'</p> +<p>Said the King, 'A way of sorrow and shame.'</p> +<p>'Not so, sire,' said Milo, 'but a way of honour. And if I +rejoice that the same way is before your Grace, I am not alone in +happiness.'</p> +<p>'A king's business,' said Richard, 'is to govern himself wisely +(having paid his debts), and his people wisely. It may be that he +should get heirs if none are. But if heirs there be, then what is +his business with more? Why should his son be better king than his +brother, for example?'</p> +<p>'Lord,' Milo admonished, 'a king who is sure of himself will +make sure of his issue. That too is a king's business.'</p> +<p>Said Richard moodily, 'Who is sure of himself?' He turned away +his head, bidding Milo a good night. As the abbot made his +reverence he added, 'I am to be married to-morrow.'</p> +<p>'I devoutly hope so,' said the good man. 'And then your Grace +will have a surer hope than in your Grace's brother.'</p> +<p>'Get you to bed, Milo,' Richard said, 'and let me be alone.'</p> +<p>Married he was, so far as the Church could provide, in the +Basilica of Limasol, with the Bishop of Salisbury to celebrate. +Vassals of his, and allies, great lords of three realms, bishops +and noble knights filled the church and saw the rites done. High +above them afterwards, before the altar, he sat crowned and vested +in purple, holding in his right hand the sceptre of his power, and +the orb of his dominion in his left hand. Then Berengère, +daughter of Navarre, kneeling before him, was by him thrice +crowned: Queen of England, Empress of Cyprus, Duchess of Normandy. +But she never got upon her little dark head the red cap of Anjou +which had covered up Jehane's gold hair. Jehane was neither at the +church nor at the great feast that followed. She, on Richard's +bidding, was in her ship, <i>Li Chastel Orgoilous</i>, whose head +swayed to the running tide.</p> +<p>But a great feast was held, at which Queen Berengère sat +by the King in a gold chair, and was served on knees by the chief +officers of the household, the kingdom, and the duchy. Also, after +dinner, full and free homage was done her—a desperate long +ceremony. The little lady had great dignity; and if they found her +stiff, it is to be hoped they remembered her very young. But +although everybody saw that Richard was in the clutches of his ague +throughout these performances, so much so that when he was not +talking his teeth chattered in his head, and his hand spilt the +wine on its way to the mouth—none were prepared for what was +to come, unless such intimates as Gaston of Béarn or +Mercadet, his Gascon con captain, may have known it. At the close +of the homage-giving he rose up in his throne, threw back his +purple robe, and showed to all beholders the wrinkled mail beneath +it. He was, in fact, in chain-armour from shoulders to feet. For a +moment all looked open-mouthed. He drew his sword with a great +gesture, and held it on high.</p> +<p>'Peers and noble vassals,' he called out in measured tones (in +which, nevertheless, deep down the shaking fit could be discerned, +vibrating the music), 'the work calls us; Acre is in peril. Kings, +who are servants of the King of Kings, put by their private +concerns; queens, who bow to one throne only, to that bow with +haste. Now, you of the Cross, who follows me to win the Cross? The +ships are ready, my lords. Shall we go?'</p> +<p>The great hall was struck dumb. Queen Berengère, only +half understanding, looked scared about her. One could not but pity +the extinguishment of her poor little great affairs. Queen Joan +grew very red. She had the spirit of her family, was angry, +fiercely whispered in her brother's ear. He barely heard her; he +shook her words from his ears, stamped on the pavement.</p> +<p>'Never, never! I am for the Cross! Lord Jesus, behold thy +knight! The work is ready, shall I not do it? I call Yea! for this +turn. Ha, Anjou! To the ships, to the ships!'</p> +<p>His sword flickered in the air; there followed it, leaping after +the beam, a great swish of steel, soon a forest of swords.</p> +<p>'Ha, Richard! Ha, Anjou! Ha, Saint George!' So they made the +rafters volley; and so headlong after King Richard tumbled out into +the dusk and sought the ships. The new Queen was crying miserably +on the daïs, Queen Joan tapping her foot beside her. Late at +night they also put out to sea. On his knees, facing the shrouded +East, King Richard spent his wedding night, with his bare sword for +his partner.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIb" id="CHAPTER_IIIb"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>WHO FOUGHT AT ACRE</h3> +<p>After they had lost the harbour of Limasol, from that hasty dark +hour of setting out, the fleet sailed (it seemed) under new stars +and encountered a new strange air. All night they toiled at the +oars; and in the morning, very early, every eye was turned to the +fired East, where, in the sea-haze, lay the sacred places clothed +(like the Sacrament) in that gauzy veil. First of them +<i>Trenchemer</i> steered, the King's red galley, in whose prow, +stiff and hieratic as a figurehead, was the King himself, watching +for a sign. The great ships rolled and plunged, the tide came +racing by them, blue-green water lipped with foam, carrying upon it +unknown weeds, golden fruit floating, wreckage unfamiliar, a dead +fish scarlet-rayed, a basket strangely wrought—drifting +heralds of a country of dreams. About noon, when mass had been said +upon his galley, King Richard was seen to throw up his arms and +stretch them wide; the shout followed the sign—'Terra Sancta! +Terra Sancta!' they heard him cry. Voice after voice, tongue after +tongue, took up the word and lifted it from ship to ship. All fell +upon their knees, save the rowers. A dim coast, veiled in violet, +lifted before their eyes—mountain ranges, great hollows, +clouded places, so far and silent, so mysteriously wrapt, full of +awe, no one could speak, no one had thought to speak, but must look +and search and wonder. A quick flight of shore birds, flashing +creatures that twittered as they swept by, broke the spell. This +then was a land where living things abode; it was not only of the +sacred dead. They drew nearer, their hearts comforted.</p> +<p>They saw Margat, a lonely tower high on a split rock; they saw +Tortosa, with a haven in the sea; Tripolis, a very white city; +Neplyn. Botron they saw, with a great terraced castle; afterwards +Beyrout, cedars about its skirt. Mountains rose up nearer to the +sound of the surf; they saw Lebanon capped with cloud-wreaths, then +snowy Hermon gleaming in the sun. They saw Mount Tabor with a grey +head, and two mountains like spires which stood separate and apart. +Tyre they passed, and Sidon, rich cities set in the sand, then +Scandalion; at length after a long night of watching a soft hill +showed, covered with verdure and glossy dark woods, Carmel, shaped +like a woman's breast. Making this hallowed mount, in the plain +beyond they saw Acre, many-towered; and all about it the tents of +the Christian hosts, and before it in the blue waters of the bay +ships riding at anchor, more numerous than the sea-birds that haunt +Monte Gibello or swim sentinel about its base. Trumpets from the +shore answered to their trumpets; they heard a wild tattoo of drums +within the walls. On even keels in the motionless tide the ships +took up their moorings; and King Richard, throwing the end of his +cloak over his shoulder, jumped off the gunwale of +<i>Trenchemer</i>, and waded breast-deep to shore. He was the first +of his realm to touch this storied Syrian earth.</p> +<p>Now for affairs. The meeting of the Kings was cordial, or seemed +so. King Philip came out of his pavilion to meet his royal brother, +and Richard, kissing him, asked him how he did. 'Very vilely, +Richard,' said the young man. 'I think there is a sword in my head. +The glaring sun flattens me by day, and all night I shiver.'</p> +<p>'Fever, my poor coz,' said Richard, with a kind hand upon his +shoulder. Philip burst out with his symptoms, wailing like a child: +'The devil bites me. I vomit black. My skin is as dry as a snake's. +Yesterday they bled me three ounces.' Richard walked back with him +among the tents, conversing cheerfully, and for a few days held his +old ascendancy over Philip; but only for a few. Other of the +leaders he saw: some gave him no welcome. The Marquess of +Montferrat kept his quarters, the Duke of Burgundy was in bed. The +Archduke of Austria, Luitpold, a hairy man with light red +eyelashes, professed great civility; but Richard had a bad way with +strangers. Not being receptive, he took no pains to pretend that he +was. The Archduke made long speeches, Richard short replies; the +Archduke made longer speeches, Richard no replies. Then the +Archduke grew very red, and Richard nearly yawned. This was at the +English King's formal reception by the leaders of the Crusade. With +the Grand Master of the Temple he got on better, liking the looks +of the man. He did not observe Saint-Pol on King Philip's left +hand; but there he was, flushed, excited, and tensely observant of +his enemy. That same night, when they held a council of war, there +was seen a smoulder of that fire which you might have decently +supposed put out. King Philip came down in a mighty hurry, and sat +himself in the throne; Montferrat, Burgundy, and others of that +faction serried round about him. The English and Angevin chiefs +were furious, and the Archduke halted between two opinions. By the +time (lateish) when King Richard was announced Gaston of +Béarn and young Saint-Pol had their swords half out. But +Richard came and stood in the doorway, a magnificent leisurely +figure. All his party rose up. Richard waited, watching. The +Archduke (who really had not seen him before) rose with apologies; +then the French followed suit, singly, one here and one there. +There only remained seated King Philip and the Marquess of +Montferrat. Still Richard waited by the door; presently, in a quiet +voice, he said to the usher, 'Take your wand, usher, to that +paralytic over there. Tell him that he shall use it, or I will.' +The message was delivered: at an angry nod from King Philip the +Marquess got darkly up, and Richard came into the hall with King +Guy of Jerusalem. These two sat down one on each side of France; +and so the council began.</p> +<p>It was hopeless from the outset—a <i>posse</i> of hornets +droned into fury by the Archduke. While he talked the rest +maddened, longing for each other's blood, failing that of Luitpold. +Richard, who as yet had no plans of his own, took no interest +whatever in plans. He acted throughout as if the Marquess was not +there, and as if he wished with all his heart that the Archduke was +not there. On his part, the Marquess would have given nearly all he +owned to have behaved so to Guy of Lusignan set over him; but the +Marquess had not that art of lazy scorn which belongs to the royal +among beasts: he glowered, he was sulky. Meantime the Archduke +buzzed his age-long periods, and Richard (clasping his knee) looked +at the ceiling. At last he sighed profoundly, and 'God of heaven +and earth!' escaped him. King Philip burst into a guffaw—his +first for many a day—and broke up the assembly. Richard had +himself rowed out to Jehane in her ship.</p> +<p>He had no business there, though his business was innocent +enough; but she could not tell him so now. The girl was dejected, +ill, and very nervous about herself. Moreover, she had suffered +from sea-sickness. She could not hide her comfort to have him; so +he took her up and kissed her as of old, and ended by settling her +on his knee. There she cried, quietly but freely. He stayed with +her till she slept; then went back to the shore and walked about +the trenches, thinking out the business before him. The dawn light +found him at it. In a day or two, having got his tackle ashore, he +began the assault upon a plan of his own, without reference to any +other principality or power at all. By this time King Philip lay +heaped in his bed, and had had his distempered brain wrought upon +by Montferrat and his kind, Saint-Pol, Des Barres, and their +kind.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Richard had with him Poictevins and Angevins, men of Provence +and Languedoc, Normans and English, Scots and Welshry, black +Genoese, Sicilians, Pisans, and Grifons from Cyprus. The Count of +Champagne had his Flemings to hand; the Templars and the +Hospitallers served him gladly. It was an agglomerate, a horde, not +an army, and nobody but he could have wielded it. He, by the virtue +in him, had them all at his nod. The English, who love to be +commanded, hauled stones for him all day, though he had not a word +of their language. The swart, praying Italians raved themselves +hoarse whenever he came into their lines; even the Cypriotes, +sullen and timorous creatures, whom no power among themselves could +have driven to the walls, fixed the great petraries and mangonels, +and ran grinning into the trap of death for this tawny-haired hero +who stood singing, bareheaded, within bow-shot of the Turks, and +laughed like a boy when some fellow slipped on to his back upon the +dry grass. He was everywhere, day after day—in the trenches, +on the towers, teaching the bowmen their business, crying 'Mort de +Dieu!' when a mangonel did its work, and some flung rock made the +wall to fly; he crouched under the tortoise-screens with the +miners, took a mattock himself as indifferently as an arbalest or a +cross-bow. He could do everything, and have (if not a word) a +cheerful grin for every man who did his duty. As it was evident +that he knew what such duty should be, and could have done it +better himself, men sweated to win his praise. He was nearly killed +on a scaling-ladder, too early put up, or too long left so. Three +arrows struck him, and the defenders, calling on Allah, rolled an +enormous boulder to the edge of the wall, which must have crushed +him out of recognition on the Last Day. 'Garde, sire!' 'Dornna del +Ciel!' came the cries from below; but 'Lady Virgin!' growled a +shockhead from Bocton-under-Bleane, and pulled his King bodily off +the ladder. The poor fellow was shot in the throat at the next +moment; the stone fell harmless. King Richard took up his dead +Englishman in his arms and carried him to the trenches. He did no +more fighting until he had seen him buried, and ordained a mass for +him. Things of those sort tempted men to love him.</p> +<p>The siege lasted ten days or more with varying successes. Day +and night in the city they heard the drums beat to arms, the cries +of the Sheiks, and more piercing, drawn-out cries than theirs. To +the nightly shrilled pronouncement of the greatness of God came as +answer the Christian's wailing prayer, 'Save us, Holy Sepulchre!' +The King of France had an engine which he called The Bad Neighbour, +and did well with it until the Turks provided a Bad Kinsman, much +bigger, which put the Neighbour to shame, and finally burned him. +King Richard had a belfry, and the Count of Flanders could throw +stones with his sling from the trenches into the market-place; at +any rate he said he could, and they all believed him. The +Christians caused the Accursed Tower to totter; they made a breach +below the Tower of Flies, in a most horrible part of the haven. +Mine and countermine, Richard on the north side worked night and +day, denying himself rest, food, reasonable care, for a week +forgetful of Jehane and her hope. The weather grew stiflingly hot, +night and day there was no breath of wind; the whole country reeked +of death and abomination. Once, indeed, a gate was set fire to and +rushed. The Christians saw before them for the first time the +ghostly winding way of a street, where blind pale houses heeled to +each other, six feet apart. There was a breathless fight in that +pent way, a strangling, throttled business; Richard with his peers +of Normandy, swaying banners, the crashing sound of steel on steel, +the splash of split polls: but it could not be carried. The Turks, +surging down on them, a wall of men, bodily forced them out. There +was no room to swing an axe, no space for a horse to fall, least of +all for draught of the bow. Richard cried the retreat; they could +not turn, so walked backwards fighting, and the Turks repaired the +gate. Acre did not fall by the sword, but by starvation rather, and +the diligent negotiations of Saladin with our King. Richard's terms +were, Restore the True Cross, empty us Acre of men-at-arms, leave +two thousand hostages. This was accepted at last. The Kings rode +into Acre on the twelfth of July with their hosts, and the +hollow-eyed courtesans watched them furtively from upper windows. +They knew their harvest was to reap.</p> +<p>Harvest with them was seed-time with others. It was seed-time +with the Archduke. King Richard set up his household in the Castle +(with a good lodging for Jehane in the Street of the Camel); King +Philip, miserably ill, went to the house of the Templars; with him, +sedulously his friend, the Marquess of Montferrat. But Luitpold of +Austria proposed himself for the Castle, and Richard endured him as +well as he could. But then Luitpold went further. He set up his +banner on the tower, side by side with Richard's Dragon, meaning no +offence at all. Now King Richard's way was a short way. He had +found the Archduke a burdensome ass, but no more. The world was +full of such; one must take them as part of the general economy of +Providence. But he knew his own worth perfectly well, and his own +standing in the host; so when they told him where the Austrian's +flag flew, he said, 'Take it down.' They took it down. Luitpold +grew red, made a long speech in German at which Richard frowned, +and another (shorter) in Latin, at which he laughed. Luitpold put +up his flag again; again Richard said, 'Take it down.' Luitpold was +so angry that he made no speeches at all; he ran up his flag a +third time. When King Richard was told, he laughed, and on this +occasion said, 'Throw it away.' Gaston of Béarn, more +vivacious than discreet, did so with ignominious detail. That day +there was a council of the great estates, at which King Philip +presided in a furred gown; for though the weather was suffocating +his fever kept him chill to the bones. To the Marquess, pale with +his old grudge, was now added the Archduke, flaming with his new +one. The mottled Duke of Burgundy blinked approval of all grudges, +and young Saint-Pol poured fire into the fire. Richard was not +present, nor any of his faction; they, because they had not been +advertised, he, because he was in the Street of the Camel at the +knees of Jehane the Fair.</p> +<p>The Archduke began on the instant. 'By God, my lords,' he said, +'is there in the world a beast more flagrant than the King of +England not killed already?' The Marquess showed the white rims of +his eyes—' Injurious, desperate, bloody villain,' was his +commentary; and Saint-Pol lifted up his hand to his master for +leave to speak mischief. But King Philip said fretfully, 'Well, +well, we can all speak of something, I suppose. He scorns me, he +has always scorned me. He refuses me homage, he shamed my sister; +and now he takes the lead of me.'</p> +<p>The Marquess kept muttering to the table, 'Hopeless villain, +hopeless villain!' and the Archduke, after staring about him for +sympathy, claimed attention, if not that; for he brought his fist +down with a thump.</p> +<p>'By thunder, but I kill him!' he said deep in his throat. +Saint-Pol came running and kissed his knee, to Luitpold's great +surprise.</p> +<p>Philip shivered in his furs. 'I must go home,' he fretted; 'I am +smitten to death. I must die in France.'</p> +<p>'Where is the King of England?' asked the, Marquess, knowing +perfectly well.</p> +<p>'Evil light upon him,' cried Saint-Pol, 'he is in my sister's +house. Between them they give me a nephew.'</p> +<p>'Oho!' Montferrat said. 'Is that it? Why, then, we know where to +strike him quickest. We should make Navarre of our party.'</p> +<p>'He has done that himself, by all accounts: said the Duke of +Burgundy, wide-awake.</p> +<p>The Archduke, returning to his new lodgings in the Bishop's +house, sent for his astrologers and asked them, Could he kill the +King of England?</p> +<p>'My lord,' said they, 'you cannot.'</p> +<p>'How is that?' he asked.</p> +<p>'Lord,' they told him, 'by our arts we discover that he will +live for a hundred years.'</p> +<p>'It is very remarkable,' said the Archduke. 'What sort of years +will they be?'</p> +<p>'Lord,' said the astrologers, 'they are divers in complexion; +but many of them are red.'</p> +<p>'I will provide that they be,' said the Archduke. 'Go away.'</p> +<p>The Marquess sought no astrologers, but instead the Street of +the Camel and Jehane's house. He observed this with great care, +watching from an entry to see how King Richard would come out, +whether attended or not. He observed more than the house, for much +more was forced upon him. Human garbage filled the close ways of +Acre, men and women marred by themselves or a hideous begetting, +hairless persons and snug little chamberers, botch-faces, +scald-heads, minions of many sorts, silent-footed Arabians as +shameless as dogs, Greeks, pimps and panders, abominable women. +Murder was swiftly and secretly done. Montferrat from his entry saw +the manner of it. A Norman knight called Hamon le Rotrou came out +of an infamous house in the dusk, and stepped into the Street of +the Camel with his cloak delicately round him. Fine as he was, he +was insanely a lover of the vile thing he had left; for he knelt +down in the street to kiss her well-worn doorstep. He knelt under +the light of a small lamp, and out of the shadow behind him stepped +catfoot a tall thin man, white from head to foot, who, saying 'All +hail, master,' stabbed Hamon deep in the side. Hamon jerked up his +head, tottered, fell without more than a tired man's sigh sideways +into the arms of his killer. This one eased his fall as tenderly as +if he was upholding a girl, let him down into the kennel, drew him +thence by the shoulders into the dark, and himself vanished. +Montferrat swore softly to himself, 'That was neatly done. I must +find out who this expert may be.' He went away full of it, having +forgotten his housed enemy.</p> +<p>There was a Sheik Moffadin in the jail, one of the Soldan's +hostages for the return of the True Cross. The Marquess went to see +him.</p> +<p>'Who of your people,' he asked, 'is very tall and light-footed, +robes him from head to foot in white linen, and kills quietly, as +if he loved the dead, with an "All hail, master"?'</p> +<p>'We call him an Assassin in our language,' the Sheik replied; +'but he is not of our people by any means. He is a servant of the +Old Man who dwells on Lebanon.'</p> +<p>'What old man is this, Moffadin?'</p> +<p>'I can tell you no more of him,' said the Sheik, 'save that he +is master of many such men, who serve him faithfully and in +silence. But he hates the Soldan, and the Soldan him.'</p> +<p>'How do they serve him, by killing?'</p> +<p>'Yes. They kill whomsoever he points out, and so receive (or +think to receive) a crown in Paradise.'</p> +<p>'Is this old man's name Death, by our Saviour?' cried the +Marquess.</p> +<p>The Sheik answered, 'His name is Sinan. But the name of Death +would suit him very well.'</p> +<p>'Where should I get speech with some of his servants?' the +Marquess inquired; adding, 'For my life is in danger. I have +enemies who are irksome to me.'</p> +<p>'By the Tower of Flies you will find them,' said the Sheik, 'and +late at night. There are always some of his people walking there. +Seek out such a man as you have seen, and without fear accost him +after his fashion, kissing him and saying, "Ah, Ali. Ah, Abdallah, +servant of Ali."</p> +<p>'I am very much obliged to you, Moffadin,' said the +Marquess.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>That same night Jehane was in pain, and King Richard dared not +leave her, nor the physicians either. And in the morning early she +was delivered of a child, a strong boy, and then lay back and slept +profoundly. Richard set two black women to fan the flies off her +without stopping once under pain of death; and having seen to the +proper care of the child and other things, returned alone through +the blanching streets, glorifying and praising God.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVb" id="CHAPTER_IVb"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>CONCERNING THE TOWER OF FLIES, SAINT-POL, AND THE MARQUESS OF +MONTFERRAT</h3> +<p>In the church of Saint Lazarus of the Knights, on Lammas Day, +the son of Richard and Jehane was made a Christian by the Abbot of +Poictiers. Gossips were the Count of Champagne, the Earl of +Leicester, and (by proxy) the Queen-Mother. He was named Fulke.</p> +<p>At the moment of anointing the church-bell was rung; and at that +moment Gilles de Gurdun spat upon the pavement outside. Saint-Pol +said to him, 'We must do better than that, Gilles.'</p> +<p>And Gilles, 'I pray God may spit him out.'</p> +<p>'Oh, He!' said Saint-Pol with a bitter laugh; 'He helps those +who are helpful of themselves.'</p> +<p>'I cannot help myself, Eustace,' said Gurdun. 'I have tried. I +had him unarmed before me at Messina, and he looked me down, and I +could not do it.'</p> +<p>'Have at his back, then.'</p> +<p>'I hope it may not come to that, said Gilles; 'and yet it may, +if it must.'</p> +<p>'Come with me to-night to the Tower of Flies,' said Saint-Pol. +'Here is my shameful sister brought out of church. I cannot +stay.'</p> +<p>'I stay,' said Gilles de Gurdun. King Richard came out of +church, and Jehane, and the child carried on a shield.</p> +<p>Jehane, who had much ado to walk without falling, saw not +Gilles; but Gilles saw her, and the red in his face took a tinge of +black. While she was before him he gaped at her, with a dry tongue +clacking in his mouth, consumed by a dreadful despair; but when she +had passed by, swaying in her weakness, barely able to hold up her +lovely head, he lifted his face to the white sky, and looked +unwinking at the sun, wondering where else an equal cruelty could +abide. In this golden king, as cruel as the sun, and as swift, and +as splendid! Ah, dastard, dastard! At the minute Gilles could have +leapt at him and mauled the great shoulders with a dog's weapons. +There was no solace for him but to bite. So he dashed his forearm +into his face, and sluiced his teeth in that.</p> +<p>But King Richard of the high head mounted his horse in the +churchyard, and rode among the people before Jehane's bearers to +the Street of the Camel. Squires of his threw silver coins among +the crowds who filled the ways.</p> +<p>Within the house, he laid her on her bed, and held up the child +before her, high in the air. He was in that great mood where +nothing could resist him. She, faint and fragrant on the bed, so +frail as to seem transparent, a disembodied sprite, smiled because +she felt at ease, as the feeble do when they first lie down.</p> +<p>'Lo, Fulke of Anjou!' sang Richard—'Fulke, son of Richard, +the son of Henry, the son of Geoffrey, the son of Fulke! Fulke, my +son Fulke, I will make thee a knight even now!' He held the babe in +one hand, with the free hand drew his long sword. The flat blade +touched the nodding little head.</p> +<p>'Rise up, Sir Fulke of Anjou, true knight of thine house, Sieur +de Cuigny when I have thee home again. By the Face!' he cried +shortly, as if remembering something, 'we must get him the badge: a +switch of wild broom!'</p> +<p>'Dear lord, sweet lord,' murmured Jehane, faint in bed, nearly +gone: but he raved on.</p> +<p>'When I lay, even as thou, Fulke, naked by my mother, my father +sent for a branch of the broom, and stuck it in the pillow against +I could carry it. And shalt thou go without it, boy? Art not thou +of the broom-bearers?' He put the child into the nurse's arm and +went to the door. He called for Gaston of Béarn, for the +Dauphin of Auvergne, for Mercadet, for the devil. The Bishop of +Salisbury came running in. 'Bishop,' said King Richard, 'you must +serve me to-day. You must take ship, my friend, with speed; you +must go to Bordeaux, thence a-horseback to the moor above Angers. +Pluck me a branch of the wild broom and return. I must have it, I +tell you; so go. Haste, Bishop. God be with you.'</p> +<p>The Bishop began to splutter. 'Hey, sire—!'</p> +<p>'Never call me that again, Bishop, if your ship is within sight +by sunset,' he said. 'Call me rather the Prince of the Devils. See +my chancellor, take my ring to him, omit nothing. Off with you, and +back with all speed.'</p> +<p>'Ha, sire, look you now,' cried the desperate bishop, 'there +will be no broom before next Easter. Here we are at Lammas.'</p> +<p>'There will be a miracle,' said Richard; 'I am sure of it. Go.' +Fairly pushing him from the door, he returned to find Jehane in a +dead faint. This set him raving a new tune. He fell upon his knees +incontinent, raised her in his arms, carried her about, kissed her +all over, cried upon the saints and God, did every extravagance +under the sun, omitted the one wise thing of letting in the +physicians. Abbot Milo at last, coming in, saved Jehane from him +for the deeper purposes of God.</p> +<p>The Count of Saint-Pol, going to the Castle, to the Queen's +side, found the Marquess with her. She also lay white and twisting +on a couch, crisping and uncrisping her little hands. Montferrat +stood at her head; three of her ladies knelt about her, whispering +in her own tongue, proffering orange water, sweetmeats, a feather +whisk. Saint-Pol knelt in her view.</p> +<p>'Madame, how is it with your Grace?' he said. The little lady +quivered, but took no notice.</p> +<p>'Madame,' said Saint-Pol again, 'I am a peer of France, but a +knight before all. I am come to serve your Grace with my manhood. I +pray you speak to me.' The Marquess folded his arms; his large +white face was a sight to see.</p> +<p>Queen Berengère's palms were bleeding a little where her +nails had broken the skin. She was quite white; but her eyes, +burning black, had no pupils. When Saint-Pol spoke for the second +time she shook beyond all control and threw her head about. Also +she spoke.</p> +<p>'I suffer, I suffer horribly. It is cruel beyond understanding +or knowledge that a girl should suffer as I suffer. Where is God? +Where is Mary? Where are the angels?'</p> +<p>'Dearest Madame, dearest Madame,' said the cooing women, and one +stroked her face. But the Queen shook the hand off, and went +wailing on, saying more than she could have meant.</p> +<p>'Is it good usage of the daughter of a king, Lord Jesus? Is this +the way of marriage, that the bride be left on her wedding day?' +She jumped up on her couch and took hold of her bosom in the sight +of men. 'She hath given him a child! He is with her now. Am I not +fit for children? Shall there never be milk? Oh, oh, here is more +shame than I can bear!' She hid her face in her hands, and rocked +herself about.</p> +<p>Montferrat (really moved) said low to Saint-Pol: 'Are we knights +to suffer these wrongs to be?' Said Saint-Pol with a sob in his +voice, 'Ah, God, mend it!'</p> +<p>'He will,' said Montferrat, 'if we help to mend.'</p> +<p>This reminded Saint-Pol of his own words to De Gurdun; so he +made haste to throw himself before the Queen, that he might still +be pure in his devotion. 'My lady Berengère,' he said +ardently, 'take me for your soldier. I am a bad man, but surely not +so bad as this. Let me fight him for you.'</p> +<p>The Queen shook her head, impatient. 'Hey! What can you do +against so glorious a man? He is the greatest in the world.'</p> +<p>'Ha, domeneddio!' said the Marquess with a snort. 'I have that +which will abate such glory. Dearest Madame, we go to pray for your +health.' He kissed her hand, and drew away with him Saint-Pol, who +was trembling under the thoughts that fired him.</p> +<p>'Oh, my soul, Marquess!' said the youth, when they were in the +glare of day again. 'What shall we do to mend this wretchedness?' +The Marquess looked shrewdly.</p> +<p>'End the wretch who wrought it.'</p> +<p>'Do we go clean to that, Marquess? Have we no back-thoughts of +our own?'</p> +<p>'The work is clean enough. You come to-night to the Tower of +Flies?'</p> +<p>'Yes, yes, I will come,' said Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'I shall have one with me,' the Marquess went on, 'who will be +of service, mind you.'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said Saint-Pol, 'and so shall I.'</p> +<p>The Marquess stroked his nose. 'Hum,' he said, advising, 'who +might your man be, Saint-Pol?'</p> +<p>'One,' said Eustace, 'who has reason to hate Richard as much as +that poor lady in there.'</p> +<p>'Who is that?'</p> +<p>'My sister Jehane's lover.'</p> +<p>'By the visible Host,' said Montferrat,' we shall be a loving +company, all told.' So they parted for the time.</p> +<p>The Tower of Flies stands apart from the city on a spit of sand +which splays out into two flanges, and so embraces in two hooks a +lagoon of scummy ooze, of weeds and garbage, of all the waste and +silt of a slack water. In front of it only is the tidal sea, which +there flows languidly with a half-foot rise; on the other is the +causeway running up to the city wall. Above and all about this dead +marsh you hear day and night the buzzing of innumerable great +flies, and in the daytime see them hanging like gauze in the thick +air. They say the reason is that anciently the pagans sacrificed +hecatombs hereabout to the idols they worshipped; but another (more +likely) is that the lagoon is a dead slack, and stinks abominably. +All dead things thrown from the city walls come floating thither, +and there stay rotting. The flies get what they can, sharing with +the creatures of land and sea; for great fish feed there; and at +night the jackals and hyænas come down, and bicker over what +they can drag out. But more than once or twice the sharks drag them +in, and have fresh meat, if their brother sharks allow it. However +all this may be, the place has a dreadful name, a dreadful smell, +and a dreadful sound, what with the humming of flies and dull +rippling of the sharks. These can seldom be seen, since the water +is too thick; but you can tell their movements by the long oily +waves (like the heads of large arrows) which their fins throw +behind them as they quest from carcase to carcase down there in the +ooze.</p> +<p>Thither in the murk of night came Montferrat in a black cloak, +holding his nose, but made feverish through his ears by the veiled +chorus of the flies. By the starshine and glow of the putrid water +he saw a tall man in a white robe, who stood at the extreme edge of +the spit and looked at the sharks. Montferrat hid his guards behind +the Tower, crossed himself, drew his sword to hack a way through +the monstrous flies, and so came swishing forward, like a man who +mows a swathe.</p> +<p>The tall man saw him, but did not move. The Marquess came quite +close.</p> +<p>'What are you looking at, my friend?' he asked, in the Arabian +tongue.</p> +<p>'I am looking at the sharks, which have a new corpse in there,' +said the man. 'See what a turmoil there is in the water. There must +be six monsters together in that swirl. See, see, there speeds +another!'</p> +<p>The Marquess turned sick. 'God help, I cannot look,' he +said.</p> +<p>'Why,' said the Arabian, 'It is a dead man they fight over.'</p> +<p>'May be, may be,' said the Marquess. 'You, my friend, are very +familiar with death. So am I; nor do I fear living man. But these +great fish terrify me.'</p> +<p>'You are a fool,' returned the other. 'They seek only their +meat. But you and I, and our like, seek nicer things than that. We +have our souls to feed; and the soul of a man is a free eater, of +stranger appetite than a shark.'</p> +<p>The Marquess looked at the flies. 'O God, Arabian, let us go +away from this place! Is there no rest from the flies?</p> +<p>'None at all,' said the Arabian; 'for thousands have been slain +here; and the flies also must be fed.'</p> +<p>'Pah, horrible!' said the Marquess, all in a sweat. The Arabian +turned; but his face was hidden, with a horrible appearance, as if +a hooded cloak stood up by itself and a voice proceeded from a +fleshless garb. 'You, Marquess of Montferrat,' it said, 'what do +you want with me by the Tower of Flies?'</p> +<p>The Marquess remembered his needs. 'I want the death of a man,' +he said; 'but not here, O Christ.'</p> +<p>'Who sent you?' asked the Arabian.</p> +<p>'The Sheik Moffadin, a captive, in the name of Ali, and of +Abdallah, servant of Ali.' So the Marquess, and would have kissed +the man, but that he saw no face under the hood, and dared not kiss +emptiness.</p> +<p>'Come with me,' said the Arabian.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>An hour later the Marquess came into the Tower of Flies, +shaking. He found Saint-Pol there, the Archduke of Austria, and +Gilles de Gurdun. There were no greetings.</p> +<p>'Where is your man, Marquess?' asked Saint-Pol of the pale +Italian.</p> +<p>'He is out yonder looking at the sharks,' said the Marquess, in +a whisper; 'but he will serve us if we dare use him.' He struck at +the flies weaving about his head. 'This is a horrible place, +Saint-Pol,' he said, staring. Saint-Pol shrugged.</p> +<p>'The deed we compass, dear Marquess, is none of the choicest, +remember,' said he. The Marquess then saw that Austria's broad +leather back was covered with flies. This quickened his +loathing.</p> +<p>'By our Saviour,' he said, 'one must hate a man very much to +talk against him here.'</p> +<p>'Do you hate enough?' asked Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>The Marquess stared about him. He saw the Archduke peacefully +twiddle his thumbs. He saw De Gurdun, who stood moodily, looking at +the floor.</p> +<p>'Oh, content you,' Saint-Pol answered him. 'That man hates more +than you or I. And with more reason.'</p> +<p>'What are your reasons, Eustace?' asked Montferrat, still in a +whisper.</p> +<p>'I hate him,' said Saint-Pol, 'for my brother's sake, whose back +he broke; for my sister's sake, whose heart he must break before he +has done with her; for my house's sake, to which (in Eudo's person) +he gave the lie; because he is of Anjou, cruel as a cat and savage +as a dog; because he is a ruthless, swift, treacherous, secret, +unconscionable beast. Are these enough reasons for you?'</p> +<p>'By God, Eustace,' said the breathless Montferrat, 'I cannot +think it. Not here!'</p> +<p>'Then,' said Saint-Pol, 'I hate him for Berengère's sweet +sake. That is a good and clean hatred, I believe. That wasted lady, +writhing white on a bed, moved me to pure pity. If I loved her +before I will love her now with whole service, not daring belie my +knighthood. I love that queen and intend to serve her. I have never +seen such pitiful beauty before. What! Is the man insatiate? Shall +he have everything? He shall have nothing. That will serve for me, +I hope. Now, Marquess, it is your turn.'</p> +<p>The Marquess struck out at the flies. 'I hate him,' he said, +'because, before the King of France, he called me a liar and +threatened me with ignominious death.' He gasped here, and looked +round him to see what effect he had made. Saint-Pol's eyes +(green-grey like his sister's) were upon him, rather coldly; +Gurdun's on the floor still. The Archduke was scratching in his +beard; and the chorus of flies swelled and shrilled. The Marquess +needed alliances.</p> +<p>'Eh, my friends,' he said, almost praying, 'will this not serve +me?'</p> +<p>Said Saint-Pol, 'Marquess, listen to this man. Speak, +Gilles.'</p> +<p>Gilles looked up. 'I have tried to kill him. I had my chance +fair. I could not do it. I shall try again, for the law is on my +side. To you, lords, I shall say nothing, for I am a man ashamed to +speak of what I desire to do, not yet certain whether I can +accomplish it. This I say, the man is my liege lord, but a thief +for all that. I loved my Lady Jehane when she was twelve years old +and I a page in her father's house. I have never loved any other +woman, and never shall. There are no other women. She gave herself +to me for good reason, and he himself gave her into my hand for +good reason. And then he robbed me of her on my wedding day, and +has slain my father and young brother to keep her. He has given her +a child: enough of this. Dastard! I will follow and follow until I +dare to strike. Then I will kill him. Let me alone.' Gilles, red +and gloomy, had to jerk the words out: he was no speaker. The +Marquess had a fierce eye.</p> +<p>'Ha, De Gurdun,' he said, 'we need thee, good knight. But come +out of this accursed fly-roost, and we shall show thee a better way +than thine. It is the flies that make thee afraid.'</p> +<p>'Eh, damn the flies,' said Gilles. 'They will never disturb me. +They do but seek their meat.'</p> +<p>'They disturb me horribly,' said the Marquess, with Italian +candour.</p> +<p>Saint-Pol laughed. 'I told you that I could bring you in a man,' +he said. 'Now, Marquess, you have our two clean reasons. What is +yours?'</p> +<p>'I have given you mine,' said Montferrat, shifting his feet. 'He +called me a liar.'</p> +<p>'It lacks cogency,' said Saint-Pol. 'One must have clean reasons +in an unclean place.' The Marquess broke out into blasphemy.</p> +<p>'May hell scorch us all if I have no reasons! What! Has he not +kept me from my kingdom? Guy of Lusignan will be king by his means. +What is Philip against Richard? What am I? What is the Archduke?' +He had forgotten that the Archduke was there.</p> +<p>'By Beelzebub, the god of this place,' said that deep-voiced +hairy man, 'you shall see what the Archduke is when you want him. +But I am no murderer. I am going home. I know what is due to a +prince, and from a prince.'</p> +<p>'Do as you please, my lord,' said Saint-Pol; 'but our schemes +are like to be endangered by such goings.'</p> +<p>'I have so little liking for your schemes, to be plain with +you,' replied the Archduke, 'that they may fail and fail again for +me. How I deal with the King of England, who has insulted me beyond +hope, is a matter for him and me to determine.'</p> +<p>'Cousin,' said Montferrat, 'you desert me.'</p> +<p>'Cousin again,' said the Archduke, 'do you wonder?' And so he +walked out.</p> +<p>'Punctilious boar!' cried Saint-Pol in a fume, 'who can only get +his tushes in one way! Now, Marquess, what are we to do?'</p> +<p>The Marquess smiled darkly, and tapped his nose. 'I have my +business in good train. I have an ancient friend on Lebanon. Stand +in with me, the pair of you, and I have all done smoothly.'</p> +<p>'You hire?' asked Saint-Pol, drily. Then he shrugged—'Oh, +but we may trust you!'</p> +<p>'Per la Madonna!' said the Marquess.</p> +<p>'What will you do, Gilles?' Saint-Pol asked the Norman. 'Will +you leave it to the Marquess of Montferrat?'</p> +<p>'I will not,' said Gilles. 'I follow King Richard from point to +point. I hire nobody.'</p> +<p>The Marquess's hands went up, desperate of such folly. 'You only +with me, my Eustace!' he said.</p> +<p>Saint-Pol looked up. 'I differ from either. I have a finer plan +than either. You are satisfied with a sword-stroke in the +back—'</p> +<p>'By my soul, it shall not be in the back!' cried De Gurdun. +Saint-Pol shrugged again.</p> +<p>'That is the Marquess's way. But what matter? You want to see +him down. So do I, by heaven, but in hell, not on the earth. I will +see him tormented. I will see him ashamed. I will wreck his hopes. +I will make him a mockery of all kings, drag his high spirit +through the mud of disastrousness. Pouf! Do you think him all +flesh? He is finer stuff than that. What he makes others I seek to +make him-soiled, defiled, a blown rag. There is work to be done in +that kind here and at home. King Philip will see to one; I stay +with the host.'</p> +<p>'It is a good plan,' said the Marquess; 'I admire it +exceedingly. But steel is safer for a common man. I go to Lebanon, +for my part, to my friends there. But I think we are in +agreement.'</p> +<p>Before they went away, they cut their arms with a dagger, and +mingled their blood. The Marquess wrapped his wound deep in his +cloak to keep the flies from it. Across the silence of the night, +as they made their way into the city, came the cry of the watchman +from a belfry: 'Save us, Holy Sepulchre!' It floated from tower to +tower, from land far out to sea. Jehane, dry in her hot bed, heard +it; Richard, on his knees in an oratory, heard it, crossed himself, +and repeated the words. Queen Berengère moaned in her sleep; +the Duke of Burgundy snored; and the Arabian spat into the +lagoon.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Vb" id="CHAPTER_Vb"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER OF FORBIDDING: HOW DE GURDUN LOOKED, AND KING +RICHARD HID HIS FACE</h3> +<p>Since the Soldan broke his pledges, King Richard swore that he +would keep his. So he had all the two thousand hostages killed, +except the Sheik Moffadin, whom the Marquess had enlarged. He has +been blamed for this, and I (if it were my business) should blame +him too. He asked no counsel, and allowed no comment: by this time +he was absolute over the armies in Acre. If I am to say anything +upon the red business it shall be this, that he knew very well +where his danger lay. It was his friends, not his enemies, he had +reason to fear; and upon these the effect of what he did was +instantaneous, and perhaps well-timed. The Count of Flanders had +died of the camp-sickness; King Philip was stricken to the bones +with the same crawling disease. Nothing now could keep Philip away +from France. Acre was full of rumours, meetings of kings and +princes, spies, racing messengers. Who should stay and who go was +the matter of debate. Philip meant to go: his friend, Prince John +of England, had been writing to him. Flanders must be occupied, and +Flanders, near England, was nearer yet to Normandy. The Marquess +also meant to go—to Sidon for Lebanon. He had things to do up +there on Richard's and his own account, as you shall hear. But the +Archduke chose to stay in Acre—and so on.</p> +<p>King Richard heard of each of these hasty discussions with a +shrug, and only put his hand down when they were all concluded. He +said that unless French hostages were left in his keeping for the +fulfilment of covenants, he should know what to do.</p> +<p>'And what is that, King of England?' asked Philip.</p> +<p>'What becomes me,' was the short answer, given in full hail +before the magnates. They looked at each other and askance at the +sanguine-hued King, who drove them all huddling before him by mere +magnanimity. What could they do but leave hostages? They left +Burgundy, Beauvais, and Henry of Champagne—one friend, one +enemy, and one blockhead. Now you see a reason for drawing the +sword upon the wretched Turks. If Richard had planted, they, poor +devils, had to water.</p> +<p>So King Philip went home, and the Marquess to Sidon for Lebanon; +and Richard, knowing full well that they meant him ill here and at +home, turned his face towards Jerusalem.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When the time came for ordering the goings of his host, he grew +very nervous about what he must leave behind him in Acre. Whether +he was a good man or not, a good husband, a good lover or not, he +was passionately a father. In every surge and cry of his wild heart +he showed this. The heart is a generous inn, keeps open house, +grows wide to meet all corners. The company is divers. In King +Richard's heart sat three guests: Christ and His lost Cross, Jehane +and her lost honour, and little Fulke upon her breast. Christ was a +dumb guest, but the most eloquent still. There had been no nods +from Him since the great day of Fontevrault; but Richard watched +Him daily and held himself bound to be His footboy. See these +desperate shifts of the great-hearted man! Here were his two other +guests: little Fulke, who claimed everything, and still Jehane, who +claimed nothing; and outside the door stood Berengère, +crisping and uncrisping her small hands. To serve Christ he had +married the Queen; to serve the Queen he had put away Jehane; to +honour Jehane (who had given him her honour) he had abjured the +Queen. Now lastly, he prayed Christ to save him Fulke, his first +and only son. 'My Saviour Christ,' he prayed on his last night at +Acre, 'let Thine honour be the first end of this adventure. But if +honour come to Thee, my Lord, through me, let honour stay with me +and my son through Thee. I cannot think I do amiss to ask so much. +One other thing I ask before I go out. Watch over these treasures +of mine that I leave in pawn, for I know very well that I shall get +no more of them.' Then he kissed the mother and the child, +comforting them, and went out, not trusting himself to look back at +the house.</p> +<p>He had made the defences of Acre as good as he knew, which was +very good indeed. He had bettered the harbour; he left ships in it, +established a post between it and Beyrout, between Beyrout and +Cyprus. He sent Guy of Lusignan to be his regent in that island, +Emperor if he chose. He left Abbot Milo to comfort Jehane, the +Viscount of Béziers to rule the town and garrison. Shriven, +fortified with the Sacrament, he spent his last night in Acre on +the 21st of August. Next morning, as soon as it was day, he led his +army out on its march to Jerusalem.</p> +<p>Joppa was his immediate object, to which place a road ran +between the mountains and the sea, never far from either. He had +little or no transport, nor could expect food by the way, for +Saladin had seen to that. The ships had to work down level with +him, with reserves of men and stores; and even so the thing had an +ugly look. The mountains of Ephraim, not very lofty, were covered +with a thick growth of holm-oak: excellent cover, wherein, as he +knew quite well, the Saracens could move as he moved, choose their +time, and attack him on front, rear, or left flank, wherever chance +offered. It was a journey of peril, harassing, slow, and without +glory.</p> +<p>For six weeks he led and held a running battle, wherein the +powers of earth and air, the powers of Mahomet, and dark forces +within his own lines all strove against him. He met them alone, +with a blank face, eyes bare, teeth hard-set. Whatever provocation +was offered from without or within, he would not attack, nor let +his friends attack, until the enemy was in his hand. You, who know +what longanimity may be and how hard a thing to come at, may admire +him for this.</p> +<p>Directly the Christians were over the brook Belus, their +difficulties were upon them. The way was through a pebbly waste of +beach and salt-grass, and a sea-scrub of grey bushes. A mile to +their left the rocks began, spurs of the mountains; the shrubs +became stunted trees; the rocks climbed, the trees with them; then +the forest rose, first sparsely, then thick and dark; lastly, into +the deep blue of the sky soared the toothed ridges, grey, scarred, +and splintry. Scurrying horsemen, on beasts incredibly sure of +foot, hung on the edge of these fastnesses, yelling, whirling their +lances, white-clad, swarthy and hoarse. They came by fifties, or in +clouds they came, swept by like a windstorm, and were gone. And in +each shrill and terrible rush some stragglers, be sure, would call +upon Christ in vain. Or sometimes great companies of Mamelukes in +mail, massed companies in blocks of men, stood covered by their +bowmen as if offering battle. If the Christians opened out to +attack (as at first they did), or some party of knights, more +adventurous than another, pricked forward at a canter, and +hastening as their hearts grew high cried at last the charge, +'Passavant!' or 'Sauve Anjou!' out of the wood with cries would +come the black cavalry, sweep up behind our men, and cut off one +company or another. And if so by day, by night there was no long +peace under the large stars. Desperate stampedes, the scattering of +camp-fires, trampling, grunting in the dark; ghostly horsemen +looming and vanishing suddenly in the half-light; and in the lull +the querulous howling of wild beasts disappointed.</p> +<p>To their full days succeeded their empty days, when they were +alone with the desert and the sun. Then hunger and thirst assailed +them, serpents bit them, stinging flies drove men mad, the sand +burnt their feet through steel and leather. They lost more this way +than by Saracen ambush, and lost more hearts than men. This was a +time for private grudges to awaken. Hatred feeds on such dry meat. +In the empty watches of the night, in the blistering daytime, under +the white sky or the deep violet, Des Barres remembered his struck +face, De Gurdun his stolen wife, Saint-Pol his dead brother, and +the Duke of Burgundy his forty pounds.</p> +<p>It must be said that Richard stretched his authority as far as +it would go. His direct aim was to reach Joppa with speed, and +thence to strike inward over the hills to the Holy City. It was +against sense to attack this enemy hugging the woody heights; but +as time went on, as he lost men and heard the muttering of those +who saw them go, he understood that if he could tempt Saladin into +close battle upon chosen ground it would be well. This was a +difficult matter, for though (as he knew) the Saracen army followed +him in the woods, it kept well out of sight. None but the light +horsemen showed near at hand, and their tactics were to sting like +wasps, and fly—never to join battle. At last, in the swamp of +Arsûf, where the Dead River splays over broad marshes, and +goes in a swamp to the sea-edge, he saw his chance, and took +it.</p> +<p>Here a feint, carried out by Gaston of Béarn with great +spirit, brought Saladin into the open. The Christians continued +their toilsome march, Saladin attacked their rear; and for six +hours or more that rearguard fought a retreating battle, meeting +shock after shock, striking no blow, while the centre and the van +watched them. This was one of the tensest days of Richard's iron +rule. De Charron, commanding the rear, sent imploring +messengers—'For Christ's love let us charge, sire, we can +bear no more of this.' He was answered, 'Let them come on again.' +Then Saint-Pol, seeing one of the chances of his life, was in open +mutiny of the tongue. 'Are we sheep, then?' Thus he to the French +with Burgundy. 'Is the King a drover of cattle? Where is the +chivalry of France?' Even Richard's friends grew fretful: Champagne +tossing his head, muttering curses to himself, Gaston of +Béarn pale and serious, chewing his beard. Two more wild +assaults the rearguard took stiffly, at the third they broke in two +places, but repelled the Turks. Richard, watching like a hawk, saw +his opportunity. He sent down a message to the Duke of Burgundy, to +Saint-Pol and De Charron—'Hold them yet once more; at six +blasts of my trumpet, charge.' The Duke of Burgundy, block though +he was, was prepared to obey. About him came buzzing Saint-Pol and +his friends: 'Impossible, my lord Duke, we cannot keep in our men. +Attack, attack.' Saladin was then coming on, one of his thunderous +charges. 'God strike blind those French mules!' cried Richard. +'They are out!' This was true: from left to centre the Christian +bowmen were out, the knights pricking after them to the charge. +Richard cursed them from his heart. 'Sound trumpets!' he shouted, +'we must let go.' They sounded; they ran forward: the English +first, then the Normans, Poictevins, men of Anjou and Pisa, black +Genoese—but the left had moved before them, and made doubtful +Richard's échelon. They knelt, pulled bowstrings to the ear. +The sky grew dun as the long shafts flew; the oncoming tide of men +flickered and tossed like a broken sea, and the Soldan's green +banner dipped like a reed in it. A second time the blast of arrows, +like a gust of death, smote them flat: Richard's voice rang sharply +out—'Passavant, chivalers! Sauve Anjou!'—and a young +Poictevin knight, stooping low in his saddle, went rocking down the +line with words for Henry of Champagne, who ruled the centre. The +archers ran back and crouched; Richard and his chivalry on the +extreme right moved out, the next company after him, and the next, +and the next, company following company, until, in echelon, all the +long fluttering array galloped over the marsh, overlapped and +enfolded the Saracen hordes in their bright embrace. A frenzied cry +from some emir by the standard gave notice of the danger; the +bodyguard about the Soldan were seen urging him. Saladin gave some +hasty order as he rode off; Richard saw it, and tasted the +bitterness of folly. 'By God, we shall lose him—oh, bemused +hog of Burgundy!' He sent a man flying to the Duke; but it was too +late. Saladin gained the woods, and with him his bodyguard, the +flower of his state.</p> +<p>The Mamelukes also turned to fly. To right, to left, the mad +horsemen drove—the black, the plumed, the Nubians in yellow, +the Turcomans with spotted skins over their mail, the men of Syria, +knighthood of Egypt—trampling underfoot their own kind. But +the steel chain held most of these; the knights had bound horse to +horse: wide on the left the Templars and Hospitallers fanned out +and swept all stragglers into the net. So within hoops of iron, as +it were, the slaughter began, silent, breathless, wet work. Here +James d'Avesnes was killed, a good knight; and here Des Barres went +down in a huddle of black men, and had infallibly perished but that +King Richard himself with his axe dug him out. 'Your pardon, King +of the World,' sobbed Des Barres, kissing his enemy's knee. 'Pooh,' +says Richard, 'we are all kings here. Take my sword and get +crowns'; and so he turned again into battle, and Des Barres pressed +after him. That was the beginning of a firm friendship between the +two. Des Barres eschewed the counsels of Saint-Pol from that +day.</p> +<p>But there was treachery still awake and about. When the rout was +begun Richard reined up for a minute, to breathe his horse and +watch the way of the field. He sat apart from his friends, seeing +the lines ride by. All in a moment inexplicably, as when in a race +of the tide comes a sudden thwart gust of wind and changes the face +of the day, there was a scurry, a babble of voices, the stampede of +men fighting to kill: the Turks with Christians on their backs came +trampling, struggling together. A sword glinted close to +Richard—'Death to the Angevin devil!' he heard, and turning +received in mid shield De Gurdun's sword. At the same moment a +knight ran full tilt into the assailant, knocked him off his horse, +and himself reeled, powerless to strike. This was Des Barres, +paying his debts. The King smiled grimly to see the wholesome +treachery, and Gurdun's dismay at it. 'Gilles, Gilles,' says he, +'be sure you get me alone in the world when next you strike at my +back. Now get you up, Norman, and fight a flying enemy, if you +please. I will await your return.' De Gurdun saluted, but avoided +his lord's face, and rode after the Turks. Des Barres stood, +deep-breathing, by the King.</p> +<p>'Will he come back, sire?' asked the French knight.</p> +<p>'Not he,' said Richard; 'he is ashamed of himself.' He added, +'That is a very honest man, to whom I have done a wrong. But listen +to this, Des Barres; if I had not wronged him, I was so placed that +I should have injured a most holy innocent soul. Let be. I shall +meet De Gurdun again. He may have me yet if he do not tire.'</p> +<p>He had been speaking as if to himself so far, but now turned his +hawk-eyes upon Des Barres. 'Tell me now,' he said, 'who gave the +order to the rear to charge, against my order?'</p> +<p>'Sire,' replied Des Barres, 'it was the Duke of Burgundy.'</p> +<p>'You do not understand me,' said Richard. 'It came through the +Duke of Burgundy's windpipe. But who put it into his thick +head?'</p> +<p>Des Barres looked troubled. 'Ah, sire, must I answer you?'</p> +<p>Considering him, King Richard said, 'No, Des Barres, you need +not. For now I know who it was. Well, he has lost me my game, and +won a part of his, I doubt.' Then he rode off, bidding Des Barres +sound the recall.</p> +<p>'Of the pagans that day,' writes Milo by hearsay, 'we made +hecatombs two score five: yet the King my master took no pleasure +of that, as I gather, deeming that he should have had Saladin's +head in a bag. Also we gained a clear road to Joppa.' So they did; +but Joppa was a heap of stones.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They held a great council there. Richard put out his views. +There were two things to be done: repair Joppa and march at once on +Jerusalem, there to find and have again at Saladin; or pursue the +coast road to Ascalon and raise the siege of that city. 'I, my +lords, am for Ascalon,' Richard said. 'It is the key of Egypt. +While the Soldan holds us cooped up in Ascalon he can get his +pack-mules through. If we relieve it, after the battery we have +done him we can hold Jerusalem at our whim. What do you say to +this, Duke of Burgundy?'</p> +<p>In the natural order of things the Duke would have said nothing. +But he had been filled to the neck by Saint-Pol. Richard being for +Ascalon, the key of Egypt, the Duke declared himself for Jerusalem, +'the key,' as he rather flatly said, 'of the world.' To this +Richard contented himself with replying, that a key was little +worth unless you could open the door with it. All the French stood +by their leader, except Des Barres. He, with Richard's party, +leaned to the King's side. But the Duke of Burgundy would not +budge, sat like a lump. He would not go to Ascalon, and none of his +battle should go. Richard cursed all Frenchmen, but gave in. The +truth was, he dared not leave Saint-Pol behind him.</p> +<p>They repaired the walls and towers of Joppa, garrisoned the +place. Then late in the autumn (truthfully, too late) they struck +inland over a rolling grass country towards Blanchegarde, a white +castle on a green hill. Moving slowly and cautiously, they pushed +on to Ramleh, thence to Bêtenoble, which is actually within +two days' march of Jerusalem. The month was October, mellow autumn +weather. King Richard, moved by the sacred influences, the level +peace of the fair land, filled day and night with the thought that +he was on the threshold of that soil which bore the very footmarks +of our blessed Saviour—King Richard, I say, was in great +heart. He had been against the enterprise thus to do; he would have +approached from Ascalon; the enterprise was folly. But it was +glorious folly, for which a man might well die. He was ready to +die, though he hoped and believed that he should not. Saladin, once +bitten, would be shy: he had been badly bitten at Arsûf. Then +came the Bishop of Beauvais with Burgundy to his +tent—Saint-Pol stayed behind—with speeches, saying that +the winter season was at hand; that it would be more prudent to +withdraw to Joppa, or even to go down to Ascalon. Ascalon needed +succours, it seemed. Richard's heart stood still at this treachery; +then he blazed out in fury. 'Are we hare or hounds, by heaven? Do +you presume—?' He mastered himself. 'What part, pray, does +Almighty God take in these pastimes of yours?'</p> +<p>The Duke of Burgundy looked heavily at the Bishop. The Bishop +said, 'Sire, Ascalon is besieged.'</p> +<p>Said Richard, 'You old fool, do you not know the Soldan better +than that? Or do you put him on a parity with this Duke? It was +under siege three weeks ago, as you remember perfectly well.'</p> +<p>The Duke still looked at the Bishop. Driven again to say +something, the latter began—'Sire, your words are injurious; +but I have spoken advisedly. The Count of Saint-Pol—'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said Richard, 'the Count of Saint-Pol? Now I begin to +understand you. Please to fetch in your Count of Saint-Pol.'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol was sent for, and he came, darkly smiling, respectful, +but aware. King Richard held his voice, but not his hand, on the +curb. The hand shook a little.</p> +<p>'Saint-Pol,' he said, 'the Duke of Burgundy refers me to the +Bishop, the Bishop to you. This seems the order of command in King +Philip's host. Between the three of you I conceive to lie the +honour of France. Now observe me. Three weeks ago I was for +Ascalon, and you for Jerusalem. Now that I have brought you within +two days of your desire—two days, observe—you are for +Ascalon, and I for Jerusalem. What is the meaning of this?'</p> +<p>'Sire,' said Saint-Pol, reasonably, 'it means that we believe +the Holy City impregnable at this season, or untenable; and Ascalon +still pregnable.'</p> +<p>The King put a hand to the table. 'It means nothing of the sort, +man. You do not believe Ascalon can be taken. It is eight days' +journey, and was in straits a month ago. You make me ashamed of the +men I am forced to lead. What faith have you? What religion? The +faith of your sick master the Runagate! The religion of your white +Marquess of Montferrat! And I had taken you for men. Foh! you are +rats.'</p> +<p>This was dreadful hearing: Saint-Pol bit his lip, but made no +other answer.</p> +<p>'Sire,' said the Bishop with heat, 'my manhood has never been +reproached before. When you carried war into my country in the King +your father's time, I met you in a hauberk of mail. If I met your +Grace, judge if I should fear the Soldan. It is my devout hope to +kiss the Holy Sepulchre and touch the Holy Cross, but before I die, +not afterwards.'</p> +<p>'Pish!' said King Richard.</p> +<p>'Sire,' Beauvais ventured again, 'our master King Philip set us +over his host as foster-fathers of his children. We dare not +imperil so many lives unadvisedly.'</p> +<p>'Unadvisedly!' the King thundered at him, red to the roots of +his hair.</p> +<p>'I withdraw the word, sire,' said the Bishop in a hurry; 'yet it +is the mature opinion of us all that we should seek the coast for +winter-quarters, not the high lands. We claim, at least, the duty +of choosing for those whose guardians we are.'</p> +<p>If Richard had been himself of two years earlier he would have +killed then and there a second Count of Saint-Pol; and for a pulse +or two the young man saw his death bright in the King's eyes. That +the angry man commanded himself is, I think, to his credit. As it +was, he did what he had certainly never done before: he tried to +reason with the Duke of Burgundy.</p> +<p>'Duke of Burgundy,' he said, leaning over his chair and talking +low, 'you are no Frenchman, and the more of a man on that account. +You and I have had our differences. I have blamed you, and you me. +But I have never found you a laggard when there was work for the +sword or adventure for the heart. Now, of all adventures in the +world the highest in which a man may engage is here. Across those +hills lies the city of God, of which (I suppose) no soul among us +might, unhelped, dare hope the sight, much less the touch, least of +all the redemption. I tell you, Duke of Burgundy, there is that +within me (not my own) which will lead you thither with profit, +glory and honour. Will you trust me? So far as I have gone along +with you I have done reasonably well. Did I scatter the heathen at +Arsûf? No thanks to you, Burgundy, but I did. Did I hold a +safe course to Joppa? Have I then brought you so near, and myself +so near, for nothing at all? If I have been a fool in my day, I am +not a fool now. I speak what I know. With this host I can save the +city. Without the best of it, I can do nothing. What do you say, my +lord? Will you let Beauvais take his Frenchmen to dishonour, and +you and your Burgundians play for honour with me? The prize is +great, the reward sure, here or in heaven. What do you say, Duke of +Burgundy?'</p> +<p>His voice shook by now, and all the bystanders watched without +breath the heavy, brooding, mottled man over against him. He, +faithful to his nature, looked at the Bishop of Beauvais. But +Beauvais was looking at his ring.</p> +<p>'What do you say, my lord?' again asked King Richard.</p> +<p>The Duke of Burgundy was troubled: he blinked, looking at +Saint-Pol. But Saint-Pol was looking at the tent-roof.</p> +<p>'Be pleased to look at me,' said Richard; and the man did look, +working under his wrongs.</p> +<p>'By God, Richard,' said the Duke of Burgundy, 'you owe me forty +pound!'</p> +<p>King Richard laughed till he was helpless.</p> +<p>'It may be, it may well be,' he gasped between the throes of his +mirth. 'O lump of clay! O wonderful half-man! O most expressive +river-horse! You shall be paid and sent about your business. +Archbishop, be pleased to pay this man his bill. I will content +you, Burgundy, with money; but I will be damned before I take you +to Jerusalem. My lords,' he said, altering voice and look in a +moment, 'I will conduct you to the ships. Since I am not strong +enough for Jerusalem I will go to Ascalon. But you! By the living +God, you shall go back to France.' He dismissed them all, and next +day broke up his camp.</p> +<p>But before that, very early in the morning, after a night spent +with his head in his hands, he rode out with Gaston and Des Barres +to a hill which they call Montjoy, because from there the pilgrims, +tending south, see first among the folded hills Jerusalem itself +lie like a dove in a nest. The moon was low and cold, the sun not +up; but the heavens and earth were full of shadowless light; every +hill-top, every black rock upon it stood sharply cut out, as with a +knife. King Richard rode silently, his face covered in a great +hood; neither man with him dared speak, but kept the distance due. +So they skirted hill after hill, wound in and out of the deep +valleys, until at last Gaston pricked forward and touched his +master on the arm. Richard started, not turned.</p> +<p>'Montjoy, dear master,' said Gaston.</p> +<p>There before them, as out of a cup, rose a dark conical hill +with streamers of white light behind and, as might be, leaping from +it. 'The light shines on Jerusalem,' said Gaston: Richard, looking +up at the glory, uncovered his head. Sharp against the light stood +a single man on Montjoy, who faced the full sun. They who saw him +there were still deep in shade.</p> +<p>'Gaston and Des Barres,' said King Richard, when they had +reached the foot of the wet hill, 'stay you here. Let me go on +alone.'</p> +<p>Gaston demurred. 'The hill is manned, sire. Beware an ambush. +You have enemies close by.' He hinted at Saint-Pol.</p> +<p>'I have only one enemy that I fear, Gaston,' said the King; 'and +he rides my horse. Do as I tell you.'</p> +<p>They obeyed; so he went under their anxious eyes. Slowly he +toiled up the bridle-path which the feet of many pilgrims had worn +into the turf; slowly they saw him dip from the head downwards into +the splendour of the dawn. But when horse and man were bathed full +in light, those two below touched each other and held hands; for +they saw him hoist his great shield from his shoulder and hold it +before his face. So as he stayed, screening himself from what he +sought but dared not touch, the solitary watcher turned, and came +near him, and spoke.</p> +<p>'Why does the great King cover his face?' said Gilles de Gurdun; +'and why does he, of his own will, keep the light of God from him? +Is he at the edge of his dominion? Hath he touched the limit of his +power? Then I am stronger than my Duke; for I see the towers shine +in the sun; I see the Mount of Olives, Calvary also, and the holy +temple of God. I see the Church of the Sepulchre, the battlements +and great gates of the city. Look, my lord King. See that which you +desire, that you may take it. Fulke of Anjou was King of Jerusalem; +and shall not Richard be a king? What is lacking? What is amiss? +For kings may desire that which they see, and take that which they +desire, though other men go cursing and naked.'</p> +<p>Said King Richard from behind his shield, 'Is that you, Gurdun, +my enemy?'</p> +<p>'I am that man,' said Gilles, 'and bolder than you are, since I +can look unoffended upon the place where our Lord God suffered as a +man. Suffering, it seems, maketh me sib with God.'</p> +<p>'I will never look upon the city, though I have risked all for +the sake of it,' said Richard; 'for now I know that it was no +design of God's to allow me to take it, although it was certainly +His desire that I should come into this country. Perhaps He thought +me other than now I am. I will not look. For if I look upon it I +shall lead my men up against it; and then they will be cut off and +destroyed, since we are too few. I will never see what I cannot +save.'</p> +<p>Said Gilles between his teeth, 'You robber, you have seen my +wife, and cannot save her now' Richard laughed softly.</p> +<p>'God bless her,' he said, 'she is my true wife, and will be +saved sure enough. Yet I will tell you this, Gurdun. If she was not +mine she should be yours; and what is more, she may be so yet.'</p> +<p>'You speak idly,' said Gurdun, 'of things which no man +knows.'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said the King, 'but I do know them. Leave me: I wish to +pray.'</p> +<p>Gilles moved off, and sat himself on the edge of the hill +looking towards Jerusalem. If Richard prayed, it was with the +heart, for his lips never opened. But I believe that his heart, in +this hour of clear defeat, was turned to stone. He took his joys +with riot, his triumphs calmly; his griefs he shut in a trap. Such +a nature as his, I suppose, respects no persons. Whether God beat +him, or his enemy, he would take it the same way. All that Gilles +heard him say aloud was this: 'What I have done I have done: +deliver us from evil.' He bade no farewell to his hope, he asked no +greeting for his altered way. When he had turned his back upon the +sacred places he lowered his shield; and then rode down the hill +into the cold shadow of the valley.</p> +<p>If he was changed, or if his soul, naked of hope, was stricken +bleak, so was the road he had to go. That day he broke up his camp +and fared for Ascalon and the sea. Stormy weather set in, the rains +overtook him; he was quagged, blighted with fever, lost his way, +his men, his men's love. Camp-sickness came and spread like a +fungus. Men, rotten through to the brain, died shrieking, and as +they shrieked they cursed his name. One, a Poictevin named Rolf, +whom he knew well, turned away his blackened face when Richard came +to visit him.</p> +<p>'Ah, Rolf,' said the King, 'dost thou turn away from me, +man?'</p> +<p>'I do that, by our Lord,' said Rolf, 'since by these deeds of +thine my wife and children will starve, or she become a whore.'</p> +<p>'As God lives,' said Richard, 'I will see to it.'</p> +<p>'I do not think He can be living any more,' said Rolf, 'if He +lets thee live, King Richard.' Richard went away. The time dragged, +the rain fell pitilessly, without end. He found rivers in floods, +fords roaring torrents, all ways choked. At every turn the Duke of +Burgundy and Saint-Pol worked against him.</p> +<p>Also he found Ascalon in ruins, but grimly set about rebuilding +it. This took him all the winter, because the French (judging, +perhaps, that they had done their affair) took to the ships and +sailed back to Acre. There they heard, what came more slowly to +King Richard, strange news of the Marquess of Montferrat, and +terrible news of Jehane Saint-Pol.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIb" id="CHAPTER_VIb"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER CALLED CLYTEMNESTRA</h3> +<p>At Acre, by the time September was set, the sun had put all the +air to the sword, so that the city lay stifled, stinking in its own +vice; and the nights were worse than the days. Then was the great +harvest of the flies, when men died so quickly that there was no +time to bury them. So also mothers saw their children flag or felt +their force grow thin: one or another swooned suddenly and woke no +more; or a woman found a dead child at the breast, or a child +whimpered to find his mother so cold. At this time, while Jehane +lay panting in bed, awake hour by hour and fretting over what she +should do when the fountains of her milk should be dry, and this +little Fulke, royal glutton, crave without getting of her—she +heard the women set there to fan her talking to each other in +drowsy murmurs, believing that she slept. By now she knew their +speech.</p> +<p>Said one between the slow passes of the fans, 'Giafar ibn Mulk +hath come into the city secretly.' And the other, 'Then we have a +thief the more.'</p> +<p>'Peace,' said the first, 'thou grudger. He is one of my lovers, +and telleth me whatsoever I seek to know. He is come in from +Lebanon; so much, and more, I know already.'</p> +<p>'What ill report doth he bring of his master?' asked the second, +a lazy girl, whose name was Misra, as the first was called +Fanoum.</p> +<p>Fanoum answered, 'Very ill report of the Melek'—that was +King Richard's name here—'but it is according to the desires +of the Marquess.'</p> +<p>'Ohè!' said Misra, 'we must tell this sleeper. She is +moon of the Melek.'</p> +<p>'Thou art a fool to think me a fool,' said Fanoum. 'Why, then, +shall I be one to turn the horn of a mad cow, to pierce my own +thigh? Let the Franks kill each other, what have we but gain? They +are dogs alike.'</p> +<p>Misra said, 'Hearken thou, O Fanoum, the Melek is no dog. Nay, +he is more than a man. He is the yellow-haired King of the West, +riding a white horse, who was foretold by various prophets, that he +should come up against the Sultan. That I know.'</p> +<p>'Then he will have more than a man's death,' said Fanoum. 'The +Marquess goeth with Giafar to Lebanon, to see the Old Man of Musse, +whom he serveth. The Melek must die, for of all men living or dead +the Marquess hateth him.'</p> +<p>'Oh, King of Kings!' said Misra, with a little sob, 'and thou +wilt stand by, thou sorrowful, while the Marquess kills the +Melek!'</p> +<p>Fanoum answered, 'Certainly I will; for any of our lord's people +can kill the Marquess; but it needeth the guile of the Old Man to +kill the Melek. Let the wolf slay the lion while he sleepeth: anon +cometh the shepherd and slayeth the gorged wolf. That is good +sense.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said Misra, 'it may be so. But I am sorry for his +favourite here. There are no daughters of Au so goodly as this one. +The Melek is a wise lover of women.'</p> +<p>'Let be for that,' replied Fanoum comfortably; 'the Old Man of +Musse is a wiser. He will come and have her, and we do well enough +in Lebanon.'</p> +<p>They would have said more, had Jehane needed any more. But it +seemed to her that she knew enough. There was danger brewing for +King Richard, whom she, faithless wretch, had let go without her. +As she thought of the leper, of her promise to the Queen-Mother, of +Richard towering but to fall, her heart grew cold in her bosom, +then filled with fire and throbbed as if to burst. It is +extraordinary, however, how soon she saw her way clear, and on how +small a knowledge. Who this Old Man might be, who lived on Lebanon +and was most wise in the matter of women, she could have no guess; +but she was quite sure of him, was certain that he was wise. She +knew something of the Marquess, her cousin. Any ally of his must be +a murdermonger. A wise lover of women, the Old Man of Musse, who +dwelt on Lebanon! Wiser than Richard! And she more goodly than the +daughters of Au! Who were the daughters of Ali? Beautiful women? +What did it matter if she excelled them? God knew these things; but +Jehane knew that she must go to market with the Old Man of Musse. +So much she calmly revolved in her mind as she lay her length, with +shut eyes, in her bed.</p> +<p>With the first cranny of light she had herself dressed by her +sulky, sleepy women, and went abroad. There were very few to see +her, none to dare her any harm, so well as she was known. Two +eunuchs at a wicked door spat as she passed; she saw the feet of a +murdered man sticking out of a drain, the scurry of a little troop +of rats. Mostly, the dogs of the city had it to themselves. No +women were about, but here and there a guarded light betrayed sin +still awake, and here and there a bell, calling the faithful to +church, sounded a homely note of peace. The morning was desperately +close, without a waft of air. She found the Abbot Milo at his +lodging, in the act of setting off to mass at the church of Saint +Martha. The sight of her wild face stopped him.</p> +<p>'No time to lose, my child,' he said, when he had heard her. 'We +must go to the Queen: it is due to her. Saviour of mankind!' he +cried with flacking arms, 'for what wast Thou content to lay down +Thy life!' They hurried out together just as the sun broke upon the +tiles of the domed churches, and Acre began to creep out of +bed.</p> +<p>The Queen was not yet risen, but sent them word that she would +receive the abbot, 'but on no account Madame de Saint-Pol.' Jehane +pushed off the insult just as she pushed her hot hair from her +face. She had no thoughts to spare for herself. The abbot went into +the Queen's house.</p> +<p>Berengère looked very drowned, he thought, in her great +bed. One saw a sharp white oval floating in the black clouds which +were her hair. She looked younger than any bride could be, +childish, a child ill of a fever, wilful, querulous, miserable. All +the time she listened to what Milo had to say her lips twitched, +and her fingers plucked gold threads out of the cherubim on the +coverlet.</p> +<p>'Kill the King of England? Kill my lord' Montferrat? Eh, they +cannot kill him! Oh, oh, oh!'—she moaned +shudderingly—'I would that they could! Then perhaps I should +sleep o' nights.' Her strained eyes pierced him for an answer. What +answer could he give?</p> +<p>'My news is authentic, Madame. I came at once, as my duty was, +to your Grace, as to the proper person—' Here she sat right +up in her bed, wide-eyed, all alight.</p> +<p>'Yes, yes, I am the proper person. I will do it, if no other +can. Virgin Mary!'—she stretched her arms out, like one +crucified—'Look at me. Am I worthy of this?' If she addressed +the Virgin Mary her invitation was pointedly to the abbot, a less +proper spectator. He did look, however, and pitied her deeply; at +her lips dry with hatred, which should have been freshly kissed, at +her drawn cheeks, into her amazed young heart: eh, God, he knew her +loveworthy once, and now most pitiful. He had nothing to say; she +went on breathless, gathering speed.</p> +<p>'He has spurned me whom he chose. He has left me on my wedding +day. I have never seen him alone—do you heed me? never, never +once. Ah, now, he has chosen for his minion: let her save him if +she can. What have I to do with him? I am the daughter of a king; +and what is he to me, who treats me so? If I am not to be mother of +England, I am still daughter of Navarre. Let him die, let them kill +him: what else can serve me now?' She fell back, and lay staring up +at him. In every word she said there was sickening justice: what +could Milo do? In his private mind he confirmed a +suspicion—being still loyal to his King—that one and +the same thing may be at one and the same time all black and all +white. He did his best to put this strange case.</p> +<p>'Madame,' he said, 'I cannot excuse our lord the King, nor will +I; but I can defend that noble lady whose only faults are her +beauty and strong heart.' Mentioning Jehane's beauty, he saw the +Queen look quickly at him, her first intelligent look. 'Yes, +Madame, her beauty, and the love she has been taught to give our +lord. The King married her, uncanonically, it is true; but who was +she to hold up church law before his face? Well, then she, by her +own pure act, caused herself to be put away by the King, abjuring +thus his kingly seat. Hey, but it is so, that by her own prayers, +her proper pleading, her proper tears, she worked against her +proper honour, and against the child in her womb. What more could +she do? What more could any wife, any mother, than that? Ah, say +that you hate her without stint, would you have her die? Why, no! +for what pain can be worse than to live as she lives? My lady, she +prevailed against the King; but she could not prevail against her +own holy nature working upon the King's great heart. No! When the +King found out that she was to be mother of his child, he loved her +so well that, though he must respect her prayers, he must needs +respect her person also. The King thought within himself, "I have +promised Madame de Saint-Pol that I will never strive with her in +love; and I will not. Now must I promise Almighty God that, in her +life, I will not strive so at all." Alas, Madame, and alas! Here +the King was too strong for the girl; here her own nobility rose up +against her. Pity her, not blame her; and for the King—I dare +to say it—find pity as well as blame. All those who love his +high heart, his crowned head, find pity for him in theirs. For many +there are who do better, having no occasion to do as ill; but there +can be none who mean better, for none have such great motions.'</p> +<p>Milo might have spared his breath. The Queen had heard one +phrase of all his speech, and during the rest had pondered that. +When he had done, she said, 'Fetch me in this lady. I would speak +with her.'</p> +<p>'Breast shall touch breast here,' said Milo to himself, full of +hope, 'and mouth meet mouth. Courage, old heart.'</p> +<p>When the tall girl was brought in Queen Berengère did not +look at her, nor make any response to her deep reverence; but bade +her fetch a mirror from the table. In this she looked at herself +steadily for some time, smoothing and coiling back her hair, +arranging her neck-covering so as to show something of her bosom, +and so on. She sent Jehane for boxes of unguent, her colour-boxes, +brush for the eyebrows, powder for the face. Finally she had +brought to her a little crown of diamonds, and set it in her hair. +After patting her head and turning it about and about, she put the +glass down and made a long survey of Jehane.</p> +<p>'They do well,' she said, 'who call you sulky: you have a sulky +mouth. I allow your shape; but there are reasons for that. You are +very tall; you have a long throat. Green eyes are my +detestation—fie, turn them from me. Your hair is wonderful, +and your skin. I suppose women of the North are so commonly. Come +nearer.' Jehane obeying, the Queen touched her neck, then her +cheek. 'Show me your teeth,' she said. 'They are strong and good, +but much larger than mine. Your hands are big, and so are your +ears; you do well to cover them. Let me see your foot.' She peeped +over the edge of the bed; Jehane put her foot out. 'It is not so +large as I expected,' said the Queen, 'but much larger than mine.' +Then she sighed and threw herself back. 'You are certainly a very +tall girl. And twenty-three years old? I am not twenty yet, and +have had fifty lovers. The Abbot of Poictiers said you were +beautiful. Do you think yourself so?'</p> +<p>'It is not my part to think of it, Madame,' said Jehane, holding +herself rather stiffly.</p> +<p>'You mean that you know it too well,' said Berengère. 'I +suppose it is true. You have a fine colour and a fine +person—but that is a woman's. Now look at me carefully, and +say how you find me. Put your hand here, and here, and here. Touch +my hair; look well at my eyes. My hair reaches to my knees when I +stand up, to the floor when I sit down. I am a king's daughter. Do +you not think me beautiful?'</p> +<p>'Yes, Madame. Oh, Madame—!' Jehane, trembling before her +visions, could hardly stand still; but the Queen (who had no +visions now the mirror was put by) went plaining on.</p> +<p>'When I was in my father's court his poets called me Frozen +Heart, because I was cold in loving. Messire Bertran de Born loved +me, and so did my cousin the Count of Provence, and the Count of +Orange, and Raimbaut, and Gaucelm, and Ebles of Ventadorn. Now I +have found one colder than ever I was, and I am burning. Are you a +great lover of the King?'</p> +<p>At this question, put so quietly, Jehane grew grave. It took her +above her sense of dangers, being in itself a dignity. 'I love the +King so well, Queen Berengère,' she said, 'that I think I +shall make him hate me in time.'</p> +<p>'Folly,' snapped the Queen, 'or guile. You would spur him. Is it +true what the Abbot Milo told me?'</p> +<p>'I know not what he has told you,' said Jehane; 'but it is true +that I have not dared let the King love me, and now dare least of +all.'</p> +<p>The Queen clenched her hands and teeth. 'You devil,' she said, +'how I hate you. You reject what I long for, and he loathes me for +your sake. You a creature of nought, and I a king's daughter.'</p> +<p>From the nostrils of Jehane the breath came fluttering and +quick; in her splendid bosom stirred a storm that, if she had +chosen to let it loose, could have shrivelled this little prickly +leaf: but she replied nothing to the Queen's hatred. Instead, with +eyes fixed in vacancy, and one hand upon her neck, she spoke her +own purpose and lifted the talk to high matters.</p> +<p>'I touch not again your King and mine, O Queen. But I go to save +him.'</p> +<p>'Woman,' said Berengère, 'do you dare tell me this? Are +my miseries nothing to you? Have you not worked woe enough?'</p> +<p>Jehane suddenly threw her hair back, fell upon her knees, lifted +her chin. 'Madame, Madame, Madame! I must save him if I die. I +implore your pardon—I must go!'</p> +<p>'Why, what can you do against Montferrat?' The Queen shivered a +little: Jehane looked fixedly at her, solemn as a dying nun.</p> +<p>'You say that I am handsome,' she said, then stopped. Then in a +very low voice—'Well, I will do what I can.' She hung her +golden head.</p> +<p>The Queen, after a moment of shock, laughed cruelly. 'I suppose +I could not wish you anything worse than that. I hate you above all +people in the world, mother of a bastard. Oh, it will be enough +punishment. Go, you hot snake; leave me.'</p> +<p>Jehane rose to her feet, bowed her head and went out. Next +moment the Queen must have whipped out of bed, for she caught her +before she could shut the door, and clung to her neck, sobbing +desperately. 'O God, Jehane, save Richard! Have mercy on me, I am +most wretched.' Now the other seemed to be queen.</p> +<p>'My girl,' said Jehane, 'I will do what I promised.' She kissed +the scorching forehead, and went away with Milo to find Giafar ibn +Mulk.</p> +<p>To get at him it was necessary to put the girl Fanoum to the +question. This was done. Giafar ibn Mulk, enticed into the house, +proved to be a young man of prudence and resource. He could not, he +said, conduct them to his master, because he had been told to +conduct the Marquess; but an equally sure guide could be found, and +there were no objections to his delaying his own illustrious convoy +for a week or more. Further than that he could not go, nor did the +near prospect of death, which the abbot exhibited to him, prove any +inducement to the alteration of his mind. 'Death?' he said, when +the implements of that were before him. 'If I am to die, I am to +die: not twice it happens to a man. But I recommend to these +priests the expediency of first finding El Safy.' As this was to be +their guide up Lebanon, those priests agreed. El Safy also agreed, +when they had him. A galley was got ready for sea; the provisional +Grand Master of the Temple wrote a commendatory letter to his +'beloved friend in the one God, Sinan, Lord of the Assassins, +<i>Vetus de Monte</i>'; and then, in two days' time, Milo the +abbot, Jehane with her little Fulke, a few women, and El Safy +(their master in the affair), left Acre for Tortosa, whence they +must climb on mule-back to Lebanon.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIb"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER OF THE SACRIFICE ON LEBANON; ALSO CALLED +CASSANDRA</h3> +<p>From the haven at Acre to the bill of Tortosa is two days' +sailing with a fair wind. Thence, climbing the mountains, you reach +Musse in four days more, if the passes are open. If they are shut +you do not reach it at all. High on Lebanon, above the frozen gorge +where Orontes and Leontes, rivers of Syria, separate in their +courses; above the terrace of cedars, above Shurky the clouded +mountain, lies a deep green valley sentinelled on all sides by snow +peaks and by the fortresses upon their tops. In the midst of that, +among cedars and lines of cypress trees, is the white palace of the +Lord of the Assassins, as big as a town. A man may climb from pass +to pass of Lebanon without striking upon the place; sighting it +from some dangerous crag, he may yet never approach it. None visit +the Old Man of Musse but those who court Death in one of his +shapes; and to such he never denies it. Dazzling snow-curtains, +black hanging-woods, sheer walls of granite, frame it in: looking +up on all sides you see the soaring pikes; and deep under a +coffer-lid of blue it lies, greener than an emerald, a valley of +easy sleep. There in the great chambers young men lie dreaming of +women, and sleek boys stand about the doorways with cups of madness +held close to their breasts. They are eaters and drinkers of hemp, +these people, which causes them to sleep much and wake up mad. +Then, when the Old Man calls one or another and says, Go down the +mountains into the cities of the seaboard, and when thou seest +such-a-one, kiss him and strike deep—he goes out then and +there with fixed eyeballs, and never turns them about until he +finds whom he seeks, nor ever shuts them until his work is done. +This is the custom of Musse in the enclosed valley of Lebanon.</p> +<p>Thither on mules from Tortosa came El Safy, leading the Abbot +Milo and Jehane, and brought them easily through all the defiles to +that castle on a spur which is called Mont-Ferrand, but in the +language of the Saracens, Bārin. From that height they looked +down upon the domes and gardens of Musse, and knew that half their +work was done.</p> +<p>What immediately followed was due to the insistence of El Safy, +who said that if Jehane was not suitably attired and veiled she +would fail of her mission. Jehane did not like this.</p> +<p>'It is not the custom of our women to be veiled, El Safy,' she +said, 'except at the hour when they are to be married.'</p> +<p>'And it is not the custom of our men,' replied the Assassin, 'to +choose unveiled women. And this for obvious reasons.'</p> +<p>'What are your reasons, my son?' asked the abbot.</p> +<p>'I will tell you,' said El Safy. 'If a man should come to our +master with a veiled woman, saying, My lord, I have here a woman +faced like the moon, and more melting than the peach that drops +from the wall, the Old Man would straightway conceive what manner +of beauty this was, and picture it more glorious than the truth +could ever be; and then the reality would climb up to meet his +imagining. But otherwise if he saw her barefaced before him; for +eyesight is destructive to mind-sight if it precede it. The eye +must be servant. So then he, dreaming of the veiled treasure, weds +her and finds that she is just what was predicted of her by the +merchant. For women and other delights, as we understand the +affair, are according to our zest; and our zest is a thing of the +mind's devising, added unto desire as the edge of a sword is +superadded to the sword. So the fair woman must certainly be +veiled.'</p> +<p>'The saying hath meat in it,' said the abbot; 'but here is no +question of merchants, nor of marriage, pardieu.'</p> +<p>'If there is no question of marriage, of what is there question +in this company?' asked El Safy. 'Let me tell you that two +questions only concern the Old Man of Musse.'</p> +<p>Jehane, who had stood pouting, with a very high head, throughout +this little colloquy, said nothing; but now she allowed El Safy his +way. So she was dressed.</p> +<p>They put on her a purple vest, thickly embroidered with gold and +pearls, underdrawers of scarlet silk, and gauze trousers (such as +Eastern women wear) of many folds. Her hair was plaited and braided +with pearls, a broad silk girdle tied about her waist. Over all was +put a thick white veil, heavily fringed with gold. Round her ankles +they put anklets of gold, with little bells on them which tinkled +as she walked; last, scarlet slippers. They would have painted her +face and eyebrows, but that El Safy decided that this was not at +all necessary. When all was done she turned to one of her women and +demanded her baby. El Safy, to Milo's surprise, made no demur. Then +they put her in a gold cage on a mule's back, and so let her down +by a steep path into the region of birds and flowering trees. There +was very little conversation, except when the abbot hit his foot +against a rock. In the valley they passed through a thick cedar +grove, and so came to the first of four gates of approach.</p> +<p>Half a score handsome boys, bare-legged and in very short white +tunics, led them from hall to hall, even to the innermost, where +the Old Man kept his state. The first hall was of cedar painted +red; the second was of green wood, with a fountain in the middle; +the third was deep blue, and the fourth colour of fire. But the +next hall, which was long and very lofty, was white like snow, +except for the floor, which had a blood-red carpet; and there, on a +white throne, sat the Old Man of Musse, himself as blanched as a +swan, robed all in white, white-bearded; and about him his +Assassins as colourless as he.</p> +<p>The ten boys knelt down and crossed their arms upon their +bosoms; El Safy fell flat upon his face, and crawling so, like a +worm, came at length to the steps of the throne. The Old Man let +him lie while he blinked solemnly before him. Not the Pope himself, +as Milo had once seen him, hoar with sanctity, looked more +remotely, more awfully pure than this king of murder, snowy upon +his blood-red field. What gave closer mystery was that the light +came strange and milky through agate windows, and that when the Old +Man spoke it was in a dry, whispering voice which, with the sound +of a murmur in the forest, was in tune with the silence of all the +rest. El Safy stood up, and was rigid. There ensued a passionless +flow of question and answer. The Old Man murmured to the roof, +scarcely moving his lips; El Safy answered by rote, not moving any +other muscles but his jaw's. As for the Assassins, they stayed +squat against the walls, as if they had been dead men, buried +sitting.</p> +<p>At a sign from El Safy the abbot with veiled Jehane came down +the hail, and stood before the white spectre on his throne. Jehane +saw that this was really a man. There was a faint tinge of red at +his nostrils, his eyes were yellowish and very bright, his nails +coloured red. The shape of his head was that of an old bird. She +judged him bald under his high cap; but his beard came below his +breast-bone. When he opened his mouth to speak she observed that +his teeth were the whitest part of him, and his lips rather grey. +He did not seem to look at her, but said to the abbot, 'Tell me why +you have come into my country, being a Frank and a Christian dog; +and why you have brought with you this fair woman.'</p> +<p>'My lord,' said the abbot, after clearing his throat, 'we are +lovers and servants of the great king whom you call the Melek +Richard, a lion indeed in the paths of the Moslems, who makes +bitter war upon your enemy the Soldan; and in defence of him we are +come. For it appears that a servant of your lordship's, called +Giafaribn Mulk, is now in Acre, which is King Richard's good town, +conspiring with the Marquess the death of our lord.'</p> +<p>'It is the first I have heard of it,' said the Old Man. 'He was +sent for a different purpose, but his hand is otherwise free. What +else have you to say?'</p> +<p>'Why, this, my lord,' said the abbot, 'that our lord the King +has too many enemies not declared, who compass his destruction +while he compasses their soul's health. This is so shameful that we +think it no time for the King's lovers to be asleep. Therefore I, +with this woman, who, of all persons living in the world, is most +dear to him (as he to her), have come to warn your lordship of the +Marquess his abominable design, in the sure hope that your lordship +will lend it no favour. King Richard, we believe, is besieging the +Holy City, and therefore (no doubt) hath the countenance of +Almighty God. But if the devil (who loves the Marquess, and is sure +to have him) may reckon your lordship also upon his side, we doubt +that he may prevail.'</p> +<p>'And do you also think,' asked the Old Man, scarcely audible, +'That the Melek Richard will thank you for these precautions of +yours?'</p> +<p>'My lord,' said Milo, 'we seek not his thanks, nor his good +opinion, but his safety.</p> +<p>'It is one thing to seek safety,' said the Old Man, 'but another +thing to find or keep it. Get you back to the doorway.'</p> +<p>So they did, and the lord of the place sat for a long time in a +stare, not moving hand or foot. Now it happened that the child in +Jehane's arm woke up, and began to stretch itself, and whimper, and +nozzle about for food. Jehane tried to hush it by rocking herself +to and fro gently on one foot. The abbot, horrified, frowned and +shook his head; but Jehane, who knew but one lord now Richard was +away, took no notice. Presently young Fulke set up a howl which +sounded piercing in that still place. Milo began to say his +prayers; but no one moved except Jehane, whose course, to her own +mind, was clear. She put the great veil back over her head, and +bared her beauty; she unfastened the purple vest, and bared her +bosom. This she gave to the child's searching mouth. The free +gesture, the bent head, the unconscious doing, made the act as +lovely as the person. Fulke murmured his joy, and Jehane looking +presently up saw the Old Man's solemn eyes blinking at her. This +did not disconcert her very much, for she thought, 'If he is +correctly reported he has seen a mother before now.'</p> +<p>It might seem that he had or had not: his action reads either +way. After three minutes' blinking he sent an old Assassin (not El +Safy) down the hall to the door.</p> +<p>'Thus,' he reported, 'saith the Old Man of Musse, Lord of the +Assassins. Tell the Sheik of the Nazarenes that the Marquess of +Montferrat shall come up and go down, and after that come up no +more. Also, let the Sheik depart in peace and with all speed, lest +I repent and put him suddenly to death. As for the fair woman, she +must remain among my ladies, and become my dutiful wife, as a +ransom price.'</p> +<p>The abbot, as one thunderstruck, raised his hands on high. 'O +sack of sin!' he groaned, 'O dross for the melting-pot! O +unspeakable sacrifice!' But Jehane, gravely smiling, checked him. +'Why, Lord Abbot, is any sacrifice too great for King Richard?' she +asked, gently reproving him. 'Nay, go, my father; I shall do very +well. I am not at all afraid. Now do what I shall tell you. Kiss +the hand of my lord Richard from me when you see him, bidding him +remember the vows we made to each other on the day at Fontevrault +when he took up the Cross, and again before the lifted Host at +Cahors. And to my lady Queen Berengère say this, that from +this day forth I am wife of a man, and stand not between her bed +and the King, as God knows I have never meant to stand. Kiss me +now, my father, and pray diligently for me.' He tells us that he +did, and records the day long ago when he had first kissed the poor +girl in the chapel of the Dark Tower, the day when, as she hoped, +she had taught her great lover to tread upon her heart.</p> +<p>At this time a great black, the chief of the eunuchs, came and +touched her on the shoulder. 'Whither now, friend?' said Jehane. He +pointed the way, being a deaf-mute. 'Lead,' said she; 'I will +follow.' And so she did.</p> +<p>She turned no more her head, nor did she go with it lowered, but +carried it cheerfully, as if her business was good. The black led +her by many winding ways to a garden filled with orange-trees, and +across this to a bronze door. There stood two more blacks on guard, +with naked swords in their hands. The eunuch struck twice on the +lintel. The door was opened from within, and they entered. An old +lady dressed in black came to meet them; to her the eunuch handed +Jehane, made a reverence, and retired. They shut the bronze doors. +What more? After the bath, and putting on of habits more sumptuous +than she had ever heard tell of, she was taken by slaves into the +Hall of Felicity. There, among the heavy-eyed languid women, Jehane +sat herself staidly down, and suckled her child.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIIb"></a>CHAPTER +VIII</h2> +<h3>OF THE GOING-UP AND GOING-DOWN OF THE MARQUESS</h3> +<p>The Marquess of Montferrat travelled splendidly from Acre to +Sidon with six galleys in his convoy. So many, indeed, did not +suffice him; for at Sidon he took off his favourite wife with her +women, eunuchs and janissaries, and thus with twelve ships came to +Tripolis. Thence by the Aleppo road he went to Karak of the +Knights, thence again, after a rest of two days, he +started—he, the knights and esquires of his body in cloth of +gold, with scarlet housings for the mules, litters for his +womenkind; with his poets, his jongleurs, his priest, his +Turcopoles and favourites; all this gaudy company, for the great +ascent of Mont-Ferrand.</p> +<p>His mind was to impress the Old Man of Musse, but it fell out +otherwise. The Old Man was not easily impressed, because he was so +accustomed to impressing. You do not prophesy to prophets, or shake +priests with miracles. When he reached the top of Mont-Ferrand he +was met by a grave old Sheik, who informed him quietly that he must +remain there. The Marquess was very angry, the Sheik very grave. +The Marquess stormed, and talked of armed hosts. 'Look up, my +lord,' said the Sheik. The mountain-ridges were lined with bowmen; +in the hanging-woods he saw the gleam of spears; between them and +the sky, on all sides as far as one could see, gloomed the frozen +peaks. The Marquess felt a sinking. He arose chastened on the +morrow, and negotiations were resumed on the altered footing. +Finally, he begged for but three persons, without whose company he +said he could not do. He must have his chaplain, his fool, and his +barber. Impossible, the Sheik said; adding that if they were so +necessary to the Marquess he might 'for the present' remain with +them at Mont-Ferrand. In that case, however, he would not see the +Lord of the Assassins.</p> +<p>'But that, very honourable sir,' said the Marquess, with +ill-concealed impatience, 'is the simple object of my journey.'</p> +<p>'So it was reported,' the Sheik observed. 'It is for you to +consider. For my own part I should say that these persons cannot be +indispensable for a short visit.'</p> +<p>'I can give his lordship a week,' said the Marquess.</p> +<p>'My master,' replied the Sheik, 'may give you an hour, but +considers that half that time should be ample. To be sure, there is +the waiting for audience, which is always wearisome.'</p> +<p>'My friend,' the Marquess said, opening his eyes, 'I am the +King-elect of Jerusalem.'</p> +<p>'I know nothing of such things,' replied the Sheik. 'I think we +had better go down.' Three only went down: the Sheik, the Marquess, +and Giafar ibn Mulk.</p> +<p>When at last they were in the garden-valley, and better still +had reached the third of the halls of degree, they were met by the +chief of the eunuchs, who told them his master was in the harem, +and could not be disturbed. The Marquess, who so far had been all +smiles and interest, was now greatly annoyed; but there was no help +for that. In the blue court he must needs wait for nearly three +hours. By the time he was ushered into the milky light of the +audience chamber he was faint with rage and apprehension; he was +dazzled, he stumbled over the blood-red carpet, arrived fainting at +the throne. There he stayed, tongue-cloven, while the colourless +Lord of Assassins blinked inscrutably upon him, with eyes so narrow +that he could not tell whether he so much as saw him; and the +adepts, rigid by the tribune-wall, stared at their own knees.</p> +<p>'What do you need of me, Marquess of Montferrat? 'asked the old +hierarch in his most remote voice. The Marquess gulped some dignity +into himself.</p> +<p>'Excellent sir,' he said, 'I seek the amity of one king to +another, alliance in a common good cause, the giving and receiving +of benefits, and similar courtesies.'</p> +<p>These propositions were written down on tablets, and carefully +scrutinized by the Old Man of Musse, who said at last—</p> +<p>'Let us take these considerations in order. Of what kings do you +propound the amity?'</p> +<p>'Of yourself, sir,' replied the Marquess, 'and of myself.'</p> +<p>'I am not a king,' said Sinan, 'and had not heard that you were +one either.'</p> +<p>'I am King-elect of Jerusalem,' the Marquess replied with +stiffness. The Old Man raised his wrinkled forehead.</p> +<p>'Well,' he said, 'let us get on. What is your common good +cause?'</p> +<p>'Eh, eh,' said the Marquess, brightening, 'it is the cause of +righteous punishment. I strike at your enemy the Soldan through his +friend King Richard.' The Old Man pondered him.</p> +<p>'Do you strike, Marquess?' he asked at length.</p> +<p>'Sir,' the Marquess made haste to answer, 'your question is +just. It so happens that I cannot strike King Richard because I +cannot reach him. I admit it: I am quite frank. But you can strike +him, I believe. In so doing, let me observe, you will deal a mortal +blow at Saladin, who loves him, and makes treaties with him to your +detriment and the scandal of Christendom.'</p> +<p>'Do you speak of the scandal of Christendom?' asked Sinan, +twinkling.</p> +<p>'Alas, I must,' said the Marquess, very mournful.</p> +<p>'The cause is near to your heart, I see, Marquess.'</p> +<p>'It is in it,' replied the Marquess. The Old Man considered him +afresh; then inquired where the Melek might be found.</p> +<p>The Marquess told him. 'We believe he is at Ascalon, separate +from the Duke of Burgundy.'</p> +<p>'Giafar ibn Mulk and Cogia Hassan,' said the Old Man, as if +talking in his sleep, 'come hither.' The two young men rose from +the wall and fell upon their faces before the throne. Their master +spoke to them in the tone of one ordering a meal.</p> +<p>Return with the Marquess to the coast by the way of Emesa and +Baalbek; and when you are within sight of Sidon, strike. One of you +will be burned alive. I think it will be Giafar. Let the other +return speedily with a token. The audience is finished.'</p> +<p>The Old Man closed his eyes. At a touch from another the two +prostrate Assassins crept up and kissed his foot, then rose, +waiting for the Marquess. He, pale as death, saw, felt, heard +nothing. At another sign a man put his hand on either shoulder.</p> +<p>'Ha, Jesus-God!' grunted the Marquess, as the sweat dripped off +him.</p> +<p>'Stop bleating, silly sheep, you will awaken the Master,' said +Giafar in a quick whisper. They led him away, and the Old Man slept +in peace.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The Marquess saw nothing of his people at Mont-Ferrand, for (to +begin with) they were not there, and (secondly) he was led another +way. By the desolate crag of Masyaf, where a fortress, hung (as it +seems) in mid-air, watches the valleys like a little cloud; through +fields of snow, by terraces cut in the ice where the sheer rises +and drops a thousand feet either way; so to Emesa, a mountain +village huddled in perpetual shadows; thence down to Baalbek, and +by foaming river-gorges into the sun and sight of the dimpling sea: +thus they led the doomed Italian. He by this time knew the end was +coming, and had braced himself to meet it stolidly.</p> +<p>The towers of Sidon rose chastely white above the violet; they +saw the golden sands rimmed with foam; they saw the ships. Going +down a lane, luxuriant with flowers and scented shrubs, where steep +cactus hedges shut out the furrowed fields and olive gardens, and +the cicalas made hissing music, Giafar ibn Mulk broke the silence +of the three men.</p> +<p>'Is it time?' he asked of his brother, without turning his +head.</p> +<p>'Not yet,' Cogia replied. The Marquess prayed vehemently, but +with shut lips.</p> +<p>They reached an open moor, where there were rocks covered with +cistus and wild vine. Here the air was very sweet and pure, the sun +pleasant. The Marquess's ass grew frisky, pricked up his ears and +brayed. Giafar ibn Mulk edged up close, and put his arm round the +Marquess's neck.</p> +<p>'The signal is a good one,' he said. 'Strike, Cogia.'</p> +<p>Cogia drove his knife in up to the heft. The Marquess coughed. +Giafar lifted him from his ass, quite dead.</p> +<p>'Now,' says he, 'go thou back, Cogia. I will stay here. For so +the Old Man plainly desired.'</p> +<p>'I think with you,' said Cogia. 'Give me the token.' So they cut +off the Marquess's right hand, and Cogia, after shaking it, put it +in his vest. When he was well upon his way to the mountain road, +Giafar sat down on a bank of violets, ate some bread and dates, +then went to sleep in the sun. So afterwards he was found by a +picket of soldiers from Sidon, who also found all of their lord but +his right hand. They took Giafar ibn Mulk and burned him alive.</p> +<p>The Old Man of Musse was extremely kind to Jehane, who pleased +him so well that he was seldom out of her company. He thought Fulke +a fine little boy, as he could hardly fail to be, owning such +parents. All the liberty that was possible to the favourite of such +a great prince she had. One day, about six weeks after she had +first come into the valley, he sent for her. When she had come in +and made her reverence he drew her near to his throne, put his arm +round her, and kissed her. He observed with satisfaction that she +was looking very well.</p> +<p>'My child,' he said kindly, 'I have news which I am sure will +please you. Very much of the Marquess of Montferrat is by this time +lying disintegrate in a vault.'</p> +<p>Jehane's green eyes faltered for a moment as she gazed into his +wise old face.</p> +<p>'Sir,' she asked, by habit, 'is this true?' 'It is quite true,' +said the Old Man. 'In proof of it regard his hand, which one of my +Assassins, the survivor, has brought me.' He drew from his bosom a +pale hand, and would have laid it in Jehane's lap if she had let +him. As she would not, he placed it beside him on the floor. +Pursuing his discourse, he said—</p> +<p>'I might fairly claim my reward for that. And so I should if I +had not got it already.'</p> +<p>Again Jehane pondered him gravely. 'What reward more have you, +sire?'</p> +<p>The Old Man, smiling very wisely, pressed her waist. Jehane +thought.</p> +<p>'Why, what will you do with me now, sire?' she inquired. 'Will +you kill me?'</p> +<p>'Can you ask?' said the Old Man. Then he went on more seriously +to say that he supposed the life of King Richard to be safe for the +immediate future, but that he foresaw great difficulties in his way +before he could be snug at home. 'The Marquess of Montferrat was by +no means his only enemy,' he told her. 'The Melek suffers, what all +great men suffer, from the envy of others who are too obviously +fools for him to suppose them human creatures. But there is nothing +a fool dislikes so much as to behold his own folly; and as your +Melek is a looking-glass for these kind, you may depend upon it +they will smudge him if they can. He is the bravest man in the +world, and one of the best rulers; but he has no discretion. He is +too absolute and loves too little.'</p> +<p>Jehane opened her eyes very wide. 'Why, do you know my lord, +sire?' she asked. The Old Man took her hand.</p> +<p>'There are very few personages in the world of whom I do not +know something,' he said; 'and I tell you that there are terms to +the Melek's government. A man cannot say Yea and Nay as he chooses +without paying the price. The debt on either hand mounts up. He may +choose with whom he will settle—those he has favoured or +those he has denied. As a rule one finds the former more +insatiable. Let him then beware of his brother.'</p> +<p>Jehane leaned towards him, pleading with eyes and mouth. 'Oh, +sire,' she said, trembling at the lips, 'if you have any regard for +me, tell me when any danger threatens King Richard. For then I must +leave you.'</p> +<p>'Why, that is as it may be,' said her master; 'but I will let +you know what I think good for you to know, and that must content +you.'</p> +<p>Jehane's beauty, enhanced as it was now by the sumptuous attire +which she loved and by her bodily well-being, was great, and her +modesty greater; but her heart was the greatest thing she had. She +raised her eyes again to the twinkling eyes of her possessor, and +kept them there for a few steady seconds, while she turned over his +words in her mind. Then she looked down, saying, 'I will certainly +stay with you till my lord's danger is at hand. It is a good air +for my baby.'</p> +<p>'It is good for all manner of things,' said the Old Man; 'and +remarkably good for you, my Garden of Exhaustless Pleasure. And I +will see to it that it continues to water the roses in your cheeks, +beautiful child.' Jehane folded her hands.</p> +<p>'You will do as you choose, my lord,' said she, 'I doubt +not.'</p> +<p>'Be quite sure of it, dear child,' said the Old Man.</p> +<p>Then he sent her back into the harem.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IXb" id="CHAPTER_IXb"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>HOW KING RICHARD REAPED WHAT JEHANE HAD SOWED, AND THE SOLDAN +WAS GLEANER</h3> +<p>'Consider with anxious care the marrow of your master when he is +fortunate,' writes Milo of Poictiers: 'if it lasts him, he is a +slow spender of his force; but on that account all the more +dangerous in adversity, having the deeper funds. By this I would be +understood to imply that the devil of Anjou, turned to fighting +uses in King Richard's latter years, found him a habitable +fortalice.' With the best reasons in life for the reflection, he +might have said it more simply; for it is simply true. Deserted by +his allies, balked of his great aspiration, within a day's march of +the temple of God, yet as far from that as from his castle of +Chinon; eaten with fever; having death, lost purpose, murmurings, +fed envy reproach, upon his conscience—he yet fought his way +through sullen leagues of mud to Ascalon; besieged it, drove his +enemy out, regained it. Thence, pushing quickly south, he surprised +Darum, and put the garrison to the sword. By this act he cut +Saladin in two, and drove such a wedge into the body of his empire +as might leave either lung of it at his mercy. The time seemed, +indeed, ripe for negotiation. Saladin sent his brother down from +Jerusalem with presents of hawks; Richard, sitting in armed state +at Darum, received him affably. There was still a chance that +treaty might win for Jesus Christ what the sword had not won.</p> +<p>Then, as if in mockery of the greatness of men, came ill news +apace. The Frenchmen, back in Acre, heard tell of Montferrat's +doings and undoing. Pretty work of this sort perturbed the allies. +The Duke of Burgundy charged Saladin with the murder; Saint-Pol +loudly charged King Richard, and the Duke's death, coming timely, +left him in the field. He made the most of his chance, wrote to the +Emperor, to King Philip, to his cousin the Archduke of Austria (at +home by now), of this last shameful deed of the red Angevin. He +even sent messengers to Richard himself with open letters of +accusal. Richard laughed, but for all that broke off negotiations +with Saladin until he could prove Saint-Pol as great a liar as he +himself knew him to be. Then rose up again the question of the +Crown of Jerusalem. The Count of Champagne took ship and came to +Darum to beg it of Richard. He too brought news with him. The Duke +of Burgundy was dead of an apoplexy. 'It seems that God is still +faintly on my side,' said Richard, 'There went out a sooty +candle.'</p> +<p>The next words gave his boast the lie. 'Beau sire,' said Count +Henry, 'I grieve to tell you something more. Before I left Acre I +saw the Abbot Milo.'</p> +<p>Richard had grey streaks in his face. 'Ah,' he says hoarsely, +'go on, cousin.' The young man stammered.</p> +<p>'Beau sire, God strikes in divers places, but always finds out +the joints of our harness.'</p> +<p>'Go on,' says King Richard, sitting very still.</p> +<p>'Dear sire, my cousin, the Abbot Milo went out of Acre three +weeks before the death of the Marquess. With him also went Madame +Jehane; but he returned without her. This is all I know, though it +is not all that the abbot knows.'</p> +<p>At the mention of her name the King took a sharp breath, as you +or I do when quick pain strikes us. To the rest he listened without +a sign; and asked at the end, 'Where is Milo?'</p> +<p>'He is at Acre, sire,' says the Count; 'and in prison.'</p> +<p>'Who put him there?'</p> +<p>'Myself, sire.'</p> +<p>'You did wrong, Count. Get you back to Acre and bring him to +me.' Champagne went away.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Great trouble, as you know, always made Richard dumb; the grief +struck inwards and congealed. He became more than ever his own +councillor, the worst in the world. Lucky for the Abbot Milo that +he was in bonds; but now you see why he penned the aphorism with +which I began this chapter.</p> +<p>After that short, stabbing flash across his face, he shut down +misery in a vice. The rest of his talk with the Count might have +been held with a groom. Henry of Champagne, knowing the man, left +him the moment he got the word; and King Richard sat down by the +table, and for three hours never stirred. He was literally +motionless. Straightly rigid, a little grey about the face, white +at the cheek-bones; his clenched hand stiff on the board, white +also at the knuckles; his eyes fixed on the door—men came in, +knelt and said their say, then encountering his blank eyes bent +their heads and backed out quietly. If he thought, none may learn +his thought; if he felt, none may touch the place; if he prayed, +let those who are able imagine his prayers. What Jehane had been to +him this book may have shadowed out: this only I say, that he knew, +from the very first hint of the fact, why she had gone out with +Milo and sent Milo home alone. The Queen knew, because Jehane had +told her; but he knew with no telling at all. She had gone away to +save him from herself. Needing him not, because she so loved him, +it was her beauty which was hungry for his desire. Not daring to +mar her beauty, she had sought to hide it. Greater love hath none +than this. If he thought of that it should have softened him. He +did not think of it: he knew it.</p> +<p>At the end of his grim vigil he got up and went out of his +house. He was served with his horse, his esquires came at call to +the routine of garrison days and nights. He rode round the walls, +out at one of the gates, on a sharp canter of reconnaissance in the +hills. Perhaps he spoke more shortly than usual, and more drily; +there may have been a dead quality in his voice, usually so +salient. There was no other sign. At supper he sat before them all, +ate and drank at his wont. Once only he startled the hallful of +them. He dropped his great gold cup, and it split.</p> +<p>But as day followed night, all men saw the change in him, +Christians and Saracens alike. A spirit of quiet savagery seemed to +possess him; the cunning, with the mad interludes, of a devil. He +set patient traps for the Saracens in the hills, and slaughtered +all he took. One day he fell upon a great caravan of camels coming +from Babylon to Jerusalem, and having cut the escort to pieces, +slew also the merchants and travellers. He seemed to give the sword +the more heartily in that he sought it for himself, but could never +get it. No doubt he deserved to get it. He performed deeds of +impossible foolhardy gallantry, the deeds of a knight-errant; rode +solitary, made single-handed rescues, suffered himself to be cut +off from his posts, and then with a handful of knights, or alone, +indeed, carved his way back to Darum. Des Barres, the Earl of +Leicester and the Grand Master, never left his side; Gaston of +Béarn used to sleep at the foot of his bed and creep about +after him like a cat; but this terrible mood of his wore them out. +Then, at last, the Count of Champagne came back with Milo and more +bad news. Joppa was in sore straits, again besieged; the Bishop of +Sarum was returned from the West, having a branch of dead broom in +his hand and stories of a throttled kingdom on his lips.</p> +<p>Before any other Richard had Milo alone. The good abbot is very +reticent about the interview in his book. What he omits is more +significant than what he says. 'I found my master,' he writes, +'sitting up in his bed in his <i>hauberk of mail</i>. They told me +he had eaten nothing for two days, yet vomited continually. He had +killed five hundred Saracens meantime. I suppose he knew who I was. +"Tell me, my good man," he said (strange address!), "the name of +the person to whom Madame d'Anjou took you."</p> +<p>'I said, "Sire, we went to the Lord of the Assassins, whom they +call Old Man of Musse."</p> +<p>'"Why did you go, monk?" he asked, and felt about for his sword, +but could not find it. Yet it was close by. I said, "Sire, because +of a report which had reached the ears of Madame that the Marquess +and the Old Man were in league to have you murdered." To this he +made no reply, except to call me a fool. Later he asked, "How died +the Marquess?"</p> +<p>'"Sire," I answered, "most miserably. He went up Lebanon to see +the Old Man, and came presently down again with two of the +Assassins in his company, but none of his train. These persons, +being near his city of Sidon, at a signal agreed upon stabbed him +with their long knives, then cut off his right hand and despatched +it to the Old Man by one of them. The other stayed by the corpse, +and was so found peacefully sleeping, and burned."</p> +<p>'The King said nothing, but gave me money and a little jewel he +used to wear, as if I had done him a service. Then he nodded a +dismissal, and I, wondering, left him. He did not speak to me again +for many weeks.'</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>You may collect that Richard was very ill. He was. The disease +of his mind fed fat upon the disease of his body, and from the +spoils of the feast savagery reared its clotted head. Syrian +mothers still quell their children with the name of Melek Richard, +a reminiscence of the dreadful time when he was without ruth or +rest. He spoke of his purposes to none, listened to none. The +Bishop of Sarum had come in with a budget of disastrous news: Count +John had England under his heel, Philip of France had entered +Normandy in force, the lords of Aquitaine were in revolt. If God +had no use for him in the East, here was work to do in the West. +But had He none? What of Joppa, shuddering under the sword? What of +Acre, where the French army wallowed in sloth, with two queens at +its mercy and Saint-Pol in the mercy-seat? What, indeed, of +Jehane?</p> +<p>Nobody breathed her name; yet night and day the image of her +floated, half-hid in scarlet clouds, before King Richard. These +clouds, a torn regiment, raced across his vision, like cavalry +broken, in mad retreat. Out of the tumbled mass two hands would +throw up, white, long, thin hands, Jehane's hands drowned in frothy +blood. Then, in his waking dream, when he drove in the spurs and +started to save, the colours changed, black swam over the blood; +and one hand only would stay, held up warningly, saying, 'Forbear, +I am separate, fenced, set apart.' Thus it was always: menace, +wicked endeavour, shipwreck, ruin; always so, her agony and denial, +his wrath and defeat.</p> +<p>But this was wholesome torment. There was other not so +purgatorial—damned torment. That was when the sudden thought +of her possession by another man, of his own robbery, his own +impotence to regain, came upon him in a surging flood and made his +neck swell with the rage of a beast. And no crouching to spring, no +flash through the air, no snatching here. Here was no Gilles de +Gurdun to deal with. Only the beast's resource was his, who had the +beast's desire without his power. At such times of obsession he +lashed up and down his chamber or the flat roof of his house, all +the tragic quest of a leopard in a cage making blank his desperate +hunting eyes. 'Lord, Lord, Lord, how long can this endure?' Alas, +the cage was wider than any room, and stronger by virtue of his own +fashioning of the locks. But to do him justice, Jehane's grave face +would sail like a moon among the storm-clouds sooner or later, and +humble him to the dust.</p> +<p>Sometimes, mostly at dawn, when a cool wind stole through the +trees, he saw the trail of events more clearly, and knew whom to +blame and whom to praise. Generous as he was through and through, +at these times he did not spare the whip. But the image he set up +before whom to scourge himself was Jehane Saint-Pol, that pure cold +saint, offering up her proud body for his needs; and so sure as he +did that he desired her, and so sure as he desired he raged that he +had been robbed. Robber as he owned himself, now he had been +robbed. So the old black strife began again. Many and many a dawn, +as he thought of these things, he went out alone into the +shadowless places of the land, to the quiet lapping sea, to the +gardens, or to the housetop fronting the new-born day, with prayer +throbbing for utterance, but a tongue too dry to pray. Despair +seized on him, and he led his men out to death-dealing, that so +haply he might find death for himself. The time wore to early +summer, while he was nightly visited by the thought of his sin, and +daily winning more stuff for repentance. Then, one morning, instead +of going out singly to battle with his own soul, he went in to the +Abbot Milo. What follows shall be told in his own words.</p> +<p>'The King came to me very early in the morning of Saints Primus +and Felician, while I yet lay in my bed. "Milo, Milo," said he, +"what must I do to be saved?" He was very white and wild, shaking +all over. I said, "Dear Master, save thy people. On all sides they +cry to thee—from England, from Normandy, from Anjou, from +Joppa also, and Acre. There is no lack of entreaty." He shook his +head. "Here," he said, "I can do no more. God is against me, the +work too holy for such a wretch." "Lord," I said, "we are all +wretches, Heaven save us! If your Grace is held off God's +inheritance, you can at least hold others from your own. Here, may +be, you took a charge too heavy; but there, at home, the charge was +laid upon you. Renouncing here, you shall gain there. It cannot be +otherwise." I believed in what I said; but he gripped the caps of +his knees and rocked himself about. "They have beaten me, Milo. +Saint-Pol, Burgundy, Beauvais—I am bayed by curs. What am I, +Milo?" "Sire," I said, "your father's son. As they bayed the old +lion, so they bay the young." He gaped at me, open-mouthed. "By +God. Milo," he said, "I bayed him myself, and believed that he +deserved it." "Lord," I answered, "who am I to judge a great king? +For my part I never believed that monstrous sin was upon him." Here +he jumped up. "I am going home, Milo," he said; "I am going home. I +am going to my father's tomb. I will do penance there, and serve my +people, and live clean. Look now, Milo, shrive me if thou hast the +power, for my need is great." The thought was blessed to him. He +confessed his sins then and there, all a huddle of them, weeping so +bitterly that I should have wept myself had I not been ready rather +to laugh and crack my fingers to see the breaking up of his long +and deadly frost. Before I shrived him, moreover, I dared to speak +of Madame Jehane, how he had now lost her for ever, and why; how +she was now at last a man's wife, and that by her own deliberate +will; and how also he must do his duty by the Queen. To all of +which he gave heed and promises of quiet endurance. Then I shrived +him, and that very morning gave him the Lord's sacred body in the +Church of the Sepulchre. I believed him sane; and so for a long +time he was, as he testified by deeds of incredible valour.'</p> +<p>It was not long after this that the fleet put out to sea, +shaping course for Acre. Message after message came in from +beleaguered Joppa; but King Richard paid little heed to them, +pending the issue of new treating with Saladin. He certainly sailed +with a single eye on Acre. But Joppa lay on his course, and it is +probable, he being what he was, that the sight of no means to do +great deeds made great deeds done. When his red galley sighted +Joppa, standing in for the purpose, all seemed over with the doomed +city. This, no doubt (since his mood was hot), urged him to one of +those impossible acts, 'incredible deeds of valour,' as Milo calls +them, for which his name lives, while those of many better kings +are forgotten.</p> +<p>The country about Joppa slopes sharply to the sea, and gives +little or no shelter for ships; but so quick is the slope that a +galley may ride under the very walls of the town and take in +provision from the seaward windows. On the landward side it is +dangerously placed, seeing that the stoop of the country runs from +the mountains to it. The few outlying forts, the stone bridge over +the river, cannot be held against a resolute foe. When King +Richard's fleet drew near enough to see, it was plain what had been +done. The Saracens had carried the outworks; they held the bridge. +At leisure they had broached the walls and swarmed in. The flag on +the citadel still flew; battle or carnage was raging in the streets +all about it. Its fall was a matter of hours.</p> +<p>Now King Richard stood on the poop of his galley, watching all +this. He saw a man come running down the mole chased by half a +dozen horsemen in yellow, a priest by the look of him; you could +see the gleam of his tonsure as he plunged. For so he did, plunged +into the sea and swam for his life. The pursuers drew up on the +verge and shot at him with their long bows. They were of Saladin's +bodyguard, fine marksmen who should never have missed him. But the +priest swam like a fish, and they did miss him. King Richard +himself hooked him out by the gown, and then clipped him in his +arms like a lover. 'Oh, brave priest! Oh, hardy heart!' he cried, +full of the man's bravery. 'Give him room there. Let him cough up +the salt. By my soul, barons, I wish that any draught of wine may +be so glorious sweet.'</p> +<p>The priest sat up and told his tale. The city was a shambles; +every man, woman, or child had been put to the sword. Only the +citadel held out; there was no time to lose. No time was lost; for +King Richard, in his tunic and breeches as he was, in his deck +shoes, without a helm, unmailed in any part, snatched up shield and +axe. 'Who follows Anjou?' he called out, then plunged into the sea. +Des Barres immediately followed him, then Gaston of Béarn +(with a yell) and the Earl of Leicester neck and neck; then the +Bishop of Salisbury, a stout-hearted prince, Auvergne, Limoges, and +Mercadet. These eight were all the men in authority that +<i>Trenchemer</i> held, except some clerks, fat men who loved not +water. But as soon as the other ships saw what was afoot, a man +here and there followed his King. The rest rowed closer to the +shore and engaged the Saracen horsemen with their archers. Long +before any men could be got off the eight were on dry land, and had +found a way into the sacked city.</p> +<p>How they did what they did the God of Battles knows best; but +that they did it is certain. All accounts of the fray agree, +Bohadin with Vinsauf, Moslem and Christian alike. What pent rage, +what storm curbed up short, what gall, what mortification, what +smoulder of resentment, bit into King Richard, we may guess who +know him. Such it was as to nerve his arm, nerve his following to +be his lovers, make him unassailable, make a devil of him. Not a +devil of blind fury, but a cold devil who could devise a scope for +his malice, choose how to do his stabbing work wiseliest. Inside +the town gate they took up close order, wedgewise, linked and +riveted; a shield before, shields beside, Richard with his +double-axe for the wedge's beak. They took the steep street at a +brisk pace, turning neither right nor left, but heading always for +the citadel, boring through and trampling down what met them. This +at first was not very much, only at one corner a company of Nubian +spears came pelting down a lane, hoping to cut them off by a flank +movement. Richard stopped his wedge; the blacks buffeted into their +shields with a shock that scattered and tossed them up like spray. +The wedge held firm; red work for axe and swords while it lasted. +They killed most of the Nubians, drove bodily through the rabble at +their heels; then into the square of the citadel they came. It was +packed with a shrieking horde, whose drums made the day a hell, +whose great banners wagged and rocked like osiers in a flood-water. +They were trying to fire the citadel, and some were swarming the +walls from others' backs. The square was like a whirlpool in the +sea, a sea of tense faces whose waves were surging men and the +flying wrack their gonfanons.</p> +<p>King Richard saw how matters lay in this horrible hive; these +men could not fight so close. Cavalry can do nothing in a dense +mass of foot, bowmen cannot shoot confined; spearmen against swords +are little worth, javelins sped once. So much he saw, and also the +straining crowd, the lifted, threatening arms, the stretched necks +about the citadel. 'O Lord, the heathen are come into Thine +inheritance. At the word, sirs, cleave a way.' And then he cried +above the infernal riot, 'Save, Holy Sepulchre! Save, Saint +George!' and the wedge drove into the thick of them.</p> +<p>This work was butcher's work, like sawing through live flesh. +Too much blood in the business: after a while the haft of the +King's axe got rotten with it, and at a certain last blow gave way +and bent like a pulpy stock. He helped himself to a beheaded +Mameluke's scimitar, and did his affair with that. Once, twice, +thrice, and four times they furrowed that swarm of men; nothing +broke their line. Richard himself was only cut in the feet, where +he trod on mailed bodies or broken swords; the others (being +themselves in mail) were without scathe. They held the square until +the Count of Champagne came up with knights and Pisan arbalestiers, +and then the day was won. They drove out the invaders; on the +Templars' house they ran up the English dragon-flag. King Richard +rested himself.</p> +<p>Two days later a pitched battle was fought on the slopes above +Joppa. Saladin met Richard for the last time, and the Melek worsted +him. Our King with fifteen knights played the wedge again when his +enemy was packed to his taste; and this time (being known) with +less carnage. But the left wing of the invading army re-entered the +town, the garrison had a panic. Richard wheeled and scoured them +out at the other end; so they perished in the sea. Men say, who saw +him, that he did it alone. So terrible a name he had with the +Saracens, this may very well be. There had never been seen, said +they, such a fighter before. Like sheep they huddled at his sight, +and like sheep his onset scattered them. 'Let God arise,' says Milo +with a shaking pen: 'and lo! He arose. O lion in the path, who +shall stand up against thee?'</p> +<p>He drove Saladin into the hills, and set him manning once more +the watch-towers of Jerusalem. But he had reached his limit; +sickness fastened on him, and on the ebb of his fury came lagging +old despair. For a week he lay in his bed delirious, babbling +breathless foolish things of Jehane and the Dark Tower, of the +broomy downs by Poictiers, the hills of Languedoc, of Henry his +handsome brother, of Bertran de Born and the falcon at Le Puy. Then +followed a pleasant thing. Saladin, the noble foe, heard of it, and +sent Saphadin his brother to visit him. They brought the great Emir +into the tent of his great enemy.</p> +<p>'O God of the Christians!' cried he with tears, 'what is this +work of thine, to make such a mirror of thy might, and then to +shatter the glass?' He kissed King Richard's burning forehead, then +stood facing the standers-by.</p> +<p>'I tell you, my lords, there has been no such king as this in +our country. My brother the Sultan would rather lose Jerusalem than +have such a man to die.'</p> +<p>At this Richard opened his eyes. 'Eh, Saphadin, my friend,' he +says, 'death is not mine yet, nor Jerusalem either. Make me a truce +with my brother Saladin for three years. Then with the grace of God +I will come and fight him again. But for this time I am spent.'</p> +<p>'Are you wounded, dear sire?' asked Saphadin.</p> +<p>'Wounded?' said the King in a whisper. 'Yes, wounded in the +soul, and in the heart—sick, sick, sick.'</p> +<p>Saphadin, kneeling down, kissed his ring. 'May the God whom in +secret we both worship, the God of Gods, do well by you, my +brother.' So he said, and Richard nodded and smiled at him +kindly.</p> +<p>When peace was made they carried him to his ship. The fleet went +to Acre.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Xb" id="CHAPTER_Xb"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER CALLED BONDS</h3> +<p>King Richard sent for his sister Joan of Sicily on the morrow of +his coming to Acre, and thus addressed her: 'Let me hear now, +sister, the truth of what passed when the Queen saw Madame +d'Anjou.'</p> +<p>'Madame d'Anjou!' cried Joan, who (as you know) had plenty of +spirit; 'I think you rob the Queen of a title there.'</p> +<p>'I cannot rob her of what she never had,' said King Richard; +'but I will repeat my question if you do not remember it.'</p> +<p>'No need, sire,' replied the lady, and told him all she knew. +She added, 'Sire and my brother, if I may dare to say so, I think +the Queen has a grief. Madame Jehane made no pretensions—I +hope I do her full justice—but remember that the Queen made +none either. You took her of your royal will; she was conscious of +the honour. But of what you gave you took away more than half. The +Queen loves you, Richard; she is a most miserable lady, yet there +is time still. Make a wife of your queen, brother Richard, and all +will be well. For what other reason in the world did Madame Jehane +what she did? For love of an old man whom she had never seen, do +you think?'</p> +<p>The King's brow grew dark red. He spoke deliberately. 'I will +never make her my wife. I will never willingly see her again. I +should sin against religion or honour if I did either. I will never +do that. Let her go to her own country.'</p> +<p>'Sire, sire,' said Joan, 'how is she to do that?'</p> +<p>'As she will,' says the King; 'but, for my part of it, with +every proper accompaniment.'</p> +<p>'Sire, the dowry—'</p> +<p>'I return it, every groat.'</p> +<p>'The affront—'</p> +<p>'The affront is offered. I prevent a greater affront.'</p> +<p>'Is this fixed, Richard?'</p> +<p>'Irrevocably.'</p> +<p>'She loves you, sire!'</p> +<p>'She loves ill. Get up on your feet.'</p> +<p>'Sire, I beseech you pity her.'</p> +<p>'I pity her deeply. I think I pity everybody with whom I have +had to deal. I do not choose to have any more pitiful persons about +me. Fare you well, sister. Go, lest I pity you.' She pleaded.</p> +<p>'Ah, sire!'</p> +<p>'The audience is at an end,' said the King; and the Queen of +Sicily rose to take leave.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He kept his word, never saw Berengère again but once, and +that was not yet. What remained for him to do in Syria he did, +patched up a truce with Saladin, saw to Henry of Champagne's +election, to Guy of Lusignan's establishment; dealt out such +rewards and punishments as lay in his power, sent the two queens +with a convoy to Marseilles. Then, two years from his hopeful entry +into Acre as a conqueror, he left it a defeated man. He had won +every battle he had fought and taken every city he had invested. +His allies had beaten him, not the heathen.</p> +<p>They were to beat him again, with help. The very skies took +their part. He was beset by storms from the day he launched on the +deep, separated from his convoy, driven from one shore to another, +fatally delayed. His enemies had time to gather at home: Eustace of +Saint-Pol, Beauvais, Philip of France; and behind all these was +John of Mortain, moving heaven and earth and them to get him a +realm. By a providence, as he thought it, Richard put into Corsica +under stress of weather, and there heard how the land lay in Gaul. +Philip had won over Raymond of Toulouse, Saint-Pol heading a +joint-army of theirs was near Marseilles, ready to destroy him. +King Richard was to walk into a trap. By this time, you must know, +he had no more to his power than the galley he rode in, and three +others. He had no Des Barres, no Gaston, no Béziers; he had +not even Mercadet his captain, and no thought where they might be. +The trap would have caught him fast.</p> +<p>'Pretty work,' he said, 'pretty work. But I will better it.' He +put about, and steered round Sicily for the coast of Dalmatia; here +was caught again by furious gales, lost three ships out of the four +he had, and finally sought haven at Gazara, a little fishing +village on that empty shore. His intention was to travel home by +way of Germany and the Low Countries, and so land in England while +his brother John was still in France. Either he had forgotten, or +did not care to remember, that all this country was a fief of the +Archduke Luitpold's. He knew, of course, that Luitpold hated him, +but not that he held him guilty of Montferrat's murder. Suspecting +no great difficulty, he sent up messengers to the lord of Gazara +for a safe-conduct for certain merchants, pilgrims. This man was an +Austrian knight called Gunther.</p> +<p>'Who are your pilgrims?' Gunther asked; and was told, Master +Hugh, a merchant of Alost, he and his servants.</p> +<p>'What manner of a merchant?' was Gunther's next question.</p> +<p>'My lord,' they said, who had seen him, 'a fine man, tall as a +tree, and strong and straight, having keen blue eyes, and a reddish +beard on his chin, as the men of Flanders do not use.'</p> +<p>Gunther said, 'Let me see this merchant,' and went down to the +inn where King Richard was.</p> +<p>Now Richard was sitting by the fire, warming himself. When +Gunther came in, furred and portly, he did not rise up; which was +unfortunate in a pretended merchant.</p> +<p>'Are you Master Hugh of Alost?' Gunther asked, looking him +over.</p> +<p>'That is the name I bear,' said Richard. 'And who are you, my +friend?'</p> +<p>The Austrian stammered. 'Hey, thou dear God, I am Lord Gunther +of this castle and town!' he said, raising his voice. Then the King +got up to make a reverence, and in so doing betrayed his +stature.</p> +<p>'I should have guessed it, sir, by your gentleness in coming to +visit me here. I ask your pardon.' Thus the King, while Gunther +wondered.</p> +<p>'You are a very tall merchant, Hugh,' says he. 'Do they make +your sort in Alost?' King Richard laughed.</p> +<p>'It is the only advantage I have of your lordship. For the rest, +my countrywomen make straight men, I think.'</p> +<p>'Were you bred in Alost, Master Hugh?' asked Gunther +suspiciously; and again Richard laughed as he said, 'Ah, you must +ask my mother, Lord Gunther.'</p> +<p>'Lightning!' was the Austrian's thought; 'here is a pretty easy +merchant.'</p> +<p>He raised some little difficulties, vexations of routine, which +King Richard persistently laughed at, while doing his best to +fulfil them. Gunther did not relish this. He named the Archduke as +his overlord, hard upon strangers. Richard let it slip that he did +not greatly esteem the Archduke. However, in the end he got his +safe-conduct, and all would have been well if, on leaving Gazara, +he had not overpaid the bill.</p> +<p>Overpay is not the word: he drowned the bill. In a hurry for the +road, the innkeeper fretted him. 'Reckoning, landlord!' he cried, +with one foot in the stirrup: 'how the devil am I to reckon +half-way up a horse? Here, reckon yourself, my man, and content you +with these.' He threw a fistful of gold besants on the flags, +turned his horse sharply and cantered out of the yard. 'Colossal +man!' gasped the innkeeper. 'King or devil, but no merchant under +the sun.' So the news spread abroad, and Gunther puffed his cheeks +over it. A six-foot-two man, a monstrous leisurely merchant, who +rose not to the lord of a castle and town, who did not wait for his +lordship's humour, but found laughable matter in his own; who was +taller than the Archduke and thought his Grace a dull dog; who made +a Danaë of his landlord! Was this man Jove? Who could think +the Archduke a dull dog except an Emperor, or, perhaps, a great +king? A king: stay now. There were wandering kings abroad. How if +Richard of England had lost his way? Here he slapped his thigh: but +this must be Richard of England—what other king was so tall? +And in that case, O thunder in the sky, he had let slip his +Archduke's deadly enemy! He howled for his lanzknechts, his boots, +helmet, great sword; he set off at once, and riding by forest ways, +cut off the merchant in a day and a night. He ran him to earth in +the small wooden inn of a small wooden village high up in the +Carinthian Alps, Blomau by name, which lies in a forest clearing on +the road to Gratz.</p> +<p>King Richard was drinking sour beer in the kitchen, and not +liking it. The lanzknechts surrounded the house; Gunther with two +of them behind him came clattering in. Glad of the diversion, +Richard looked up.</p> +<p>'Ha, here is Lord Gunther again,' said he. 'Better than +beer.'</p> +<p>'King Richard of England,' said the Austrian, white by nature, +heat, and his feelings, 'I make you my prisoner.'</p> +<p>'So it seems,' replied the King; 'sit down, Gunther. I offer you +beer and a most indifferent cheese.'</p> +<p>But Gunther would by no means sit down in the presence of an +anointed king for one bidding.</p> +<p>'Ah, sire, it is proper that I should stand before you,' he said +huskily, greatly excited.</p> +<p>'It is not at all proper when I tell you to be seated,' returned +King Richard. So Gunther sat down and wiped his head, Richard +finished his beer; and then they went to sleep on the floor. Early +in the morning the prisoner woke up his gaoler.</p> +<p>'Come, Gunther,' he says, 'we had better take the road.'</p> +<p>'I am ready, sire,' says Gunther, manifestly unready. He rose +and shook himself.</p> +<p>'Lead, then,' Richard said.</p> +<p>'I follow you, sire.'</p> +<p>'Lead, you white dog,' said the King, and showed his teeth for a +moment. The Austrian obeyed. One of Richard's few attendants, a +Norman called Martin Vaux, adopted for his own salvation the simple +expedient of staying behind; and Gunther was in far too exalted a +mood to notice such a trifle. When he and his troop had rounded the +forest road, Martin Vaux rounded it also, but in the opposite +direction. He was rather a fool, though not fool enough to go to +prison if he could help it. Being a seaman by grace, he smelt for +his element, and by grace found it after not many days. More of him +presently.</p> +<p>Archduke Luitpold was in his good town of Gratz when news was +brought him, and the man. 'Du lieber Gott!' he crowed. 'Ach, mein +Gunther!' and embraced his vassal.</p> +<p>His fiery little eyes burned red, as Mars when he flickers; but +he was a gentleman. He took Richard's proffered hand, and after +some fumbling about, kissed it.</p> +<p>'Ha, sire!' came the words, deeply exultant, from his big +throat. 'Now we are on more equal terms, it appears.'</p> +<p>'I agree with you, Luitpold,' said the King; and then, even as +the Archduke was wetting his lips for the purpose, he added, 'But I +hope you will not stretch your privilege so far as to make me a +speech.'</p> +<p>Austria swallowed hard. 'Sire, it would take many speeches to +wipe out the provocations I have received at your hands. All the +speeches in the councils of the world could not excuse the deaths +of my second cousin the Count of Saint-Pol and of my first cousin +the Marquess of Montferrat.'</p> +<p>'That is true,' replied Richard, 'but neither could they restore +them to life.'</p> +<p>'Sire, sire!' cried the Archduke, 'upon my soul I believe you +guilty of the Marquess's death.'</p> +<p>'I assumed that you did,' was the King's answer; 'and your +protestation adds no weight to my theory, but otherwise.'</p> +<p>'Do you admit it, King Richard?' The Archduke, an amazed man, +looked foolish. His mouth fell open and his hair stuck out; this +gave him the appearance of a perturbed eagle in a bush.</p> +<p>'I am far from denying it,' says Richard. 'I never deny any +charges, and never make any unless I am prepared to pursue them; +which is not the case at present.'</p> +<p>'I must keep you in safe hold, sire,' the Archduke said. 'I must +communicate with my lord the Roman Emperor.'</p> +<p>'You are in your right, Luitpold,' said King Richard.</p> +<p>The end of the day's work was that the King of England was +lodged in a high tower, some sixty feet above the town wall.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Now consider the acts of Martin Vaux, smelling for the sea. In a +little time he did better than that, for he saw it from the top of +a high mountain, shining far off in the haze, and then had nothing +to do but follow down a river-bed, which brought him duly to +Trieste. Thence he got a passage to Venice, where the wineshops +were too good or too many for him. He talked of his misfortunes, of +his broken shoes, of Austrian beer, of his exalted master, of his +extreme ingenuity and capacity for all kinds of faithful service. +Now Venice was, as it is now, a place <i>colluvies gentium</i>. +Gaunt, lonely Arabs stalked the narrow streets, or dreamed +motionless by the walls of the quay. The city was full of strayed +Crusaders, disastrous broken blades, of renegade Christians, +renegade Moslems, adaptable Jews, of pilgrims, and chafferers of +relics from the holy places. Martin's story spread like the plague, +but not (unhappily) to any advantage of King Richard imperturbable +in his tower. Martin Vaux then, having drunk up the charity of +Venice, shipped for Ancona. There too he met with attentions, for +there he met a countryman of his, the Sieur Gilles de Gurdun, a +Norman knight.</p> +<p>When Sir Gilles heard that King Richard was in prison, but that +Jehane was not with him, he grew very red. That he had never +learned of her deeds at Acre need not surprise you. He had not +heard because he had not been to Acre with the French host, but +instead had gone pilgrim to Jerusalem, and thence with Lusignan to +Cyprus. So now he took Martin Vaux by the windpipe and shook him +till his eyes stared like agate balls. 'Tell me where Madame Jehane +is, you clot, or I finish what I have begun,' he said terribly. But +Martin could tell him no more, for he was quite dead. It was +proper, even in Ancona, to be moving after that; and Gilles was +very ready to move. The hunger and thirst for Jehane, which had +never left him for long, came aching back to such a pitch that he +felt he must now find her, see her, touch her, or die. The King was +her only clue; he must hunt him out wherever he might be. One of +two things had occurred: either Richard had tired of her, or he had +lost her by mischance of travel. There was a third possible thing, +that the Queen had had her murdered. He put that from him, being +sure she was not dead. 'Death,' said Gilles, 'is great, but not +great enough to have Jehane in her beauty.' He really believed +this. So he came back to his two positions. If the King had tired +of her, he would not scruple (being as he was) to admit as much to +Gilles. If he had lost her, he was safe in prison; and Gilles knew +that with time he could find her. But he must be sure. He thought +of another thing. 'If he is in prison, in chains, he might be +stabbed with certain ease.' His heart exulted at the hot +thought.</p> +<p>It was not hard to follow back on Martin's dallying footsteps. +He traced him to Venice, to Trieste, up the mountains as far as +Blomau. There he lost him, and shot very wide of the mark. In fact, +the slow-witted young man went to Vienna on a false +rumour—but it boots not recount his wanderings. Six months +after he left Ancona, ragged, hatless, unkempt, hungry, he came +within sight of the strong towers of Gratz; and as he went limping +by the town ditch he heard a clear, high voice singing—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Li dous consire<br /> +Quem don' Ainors soven—</div> +<p>and knew that he had run down his man.</p> +<p>One other, crouching under the wall, most intent watcher, saw +him stop as if hit, clap his hand to his shock-head, then listen, +brooding, working his jaws from side to side. The voice stayed; +Gilles turned and slowly went his way back. He limped under the +gateway into the town, and the croucher by the wall peered at him +between the meshes of her dishevelled hair.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIb" id="CHAPTER_XIb"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER CALLED <i>A LATERE</i></h3> +<p>The Old Man of Musse, Lord of all the Assassins, descendant of +Ali, Fulness of Light, Master of them that eat hemp, and many +things beside, wedded Jehane and made her his principal wife. He +valued in her, apart from her bodily perfections, her discretion, +obedience, good sense, and that extraordinary sort of pride which +makes its possessor humble, so inset it is; too proud, you may say, +to give pride a thought. Esteeming her at this price, it is not +remarkable if she came to be his only wife.</p> +<p>This was the manner of her life. When her husband left her, +which was very early in the morning, she generally slept for an +hour, then rose and went to the bath. Her boy was brought to her in +the pavilion of the Garden of Fountains; she spent two hours or +more with him, teaching him his prayers, the honour of his father, +love and duty to his mother, respect for the long purposes of God. +At ten o'clock she broke her fast, and afterwards her women sat +with her at needlework; and one would sing, or one tell a good +tale; or, leave being given, they would gossip among themselves, +with a look ever at her for approval or (what rarely happened) +disapproval. There was not a soul among her slaves who did not love +her, nor one who did not fear her. She talked no more than she had +ever done, but she judged no less. Many times a day the Old Man +sent for her, or sometimes came to her room, to discuss his +affairs. He never found her out of humour, dull, perverse, or +otherwise than well-disposed to all his desires. Far from that, +every Friday he gave thanks in the mosque for the gift of such an +admirable wife—grave, discreet, pious, amorous, chaste, +obedient, nimble, complaisant, and most beautiful, as he hereby +declared that he found her. Being a man of the greatest possible +experience, this was high praise; nor had he been slow in making up +his mind that she was to be trusted. He was about to prove his deed +as good as his opinion.</p> +<p>Word was brought her on a day, as she sat in the harem with her +boy on her knee, singing to herself and him some winding song of +France, that this redoubtable lord of hers was waiting to see her +in her chamber. She put the child down and followed the eunuch. +Entering the room where the Old Man sat, she knelt down, as was +customary, and kissed his knee. He touched her bent head. 'Rise up, +my child,' says he, 'sit with me for a little. I have matters of +concernment for you.' She sat at once by his side; he took her hand +and began to talk to her in this manner.</p> +<p>'It appears, Jehane, that I am something of a prophet. Your late +master, the Melek Richard, has fallen into the power of his +enemies; he is now a prisoner of the Archduke's on many charges: +first, the killing of your brother Eudo, Count of Saint-Pol; but +that is a very trifling affair, which occurred, moreover, in fair +battle. Next, they accuse him—falsely, as you know—of +the death of Montferrat. We may have our own opinion about that. +But the prime matter, as I guess, is ransom, and whether those who +wish him ill (not for what he has done to them, but for what he has +not allowed them to do to him) will suffer him to be ransomed. Now, +what have you to say, my child? I see that it affects you.'</p> +<p>Jehane was affected, but not as you might expect. With great +self-possession she had a very practical mind. There were neither +tears nor heart-beatings, neither panic nor flying of colours. Her +eyes sought the Old Man's and remained steadily on them; her lips +were firm and red.</p> +<p>'What are you willing to do, sire?' she asked him. Sinan stroked +his fine beard.</p> +<p>'I can dispose of the business of Montferrat in a few lines,' he +said, considering. 'More, I can reach the Melek and assure him of +comfort. What I cannot do so easily, though I admit no failure, +mind, is to induce his enemies at home to allow of a ransom.'</p> +<p>'I can do that,' said Jehane, 'if you will do the rest.' The Old +Man patted her cheek.</p> +<p>'It is not the custom of my nation to allow wives abroad. You, +moreover, are not of that nation. How can I trust the Melek, who (I +know) loves you? How can I trust you, who (I know) love the +Melek?'</p> +<p>'Oh, sire,' says Jehane, looking him full in the face, 'I came +here because I loved my lord Richard; and when I have assured his +safety I shall return here.' She looked down, as she +added—'For the same reason, and for no other.'</p> +<p>'I quite understand you, child,' said the Old Man, and put his +hand under her chin. This made her blush, and brought up her face +again quickly.</p> +<p>'Dear sire,' she said shyly, 'you are very kind to me. If I had +another reason for returning it would be that.' Sinan kissed +her.</p> +<p>'And so it shall be, my dear,' he assured her. 'There is time +enough. You shall certainly go, due regard being had to my dignity, +and your health, which is delicate just now.'</p> +<p>'Have no fear for me, my lord,' she said. 'I am very strong.' He +kissed her again, saying, 'I have never known a woman at once so +beautiful and so strong.'</p> +<p>He wrote two letters, sealing them with his own signet and that +of King Solomon. To the Archduke he said curtly—</p> +<p>'To the Archduke Luitpold, <i>Vetus de Monte</i> sends greeting. +If the Melek Richard be any way let in the matter of his life and +renown, I bid you take heed that as I served the Marquess of +Montferrat, so also I shall serve your Serenity.'</p> +<p>But the Emperor demanded more civil advertisement: he got a +remarkably fine letter.</p> +<p>'To the most exalted man, Henry, by the grace of God Emperor of +the Romans, happy, pious, ever august, the invincible Conqueror, +<i>Vetus de Monte</i>, by the same great Chief of the Assassins, +sends greeting with the kiss of peace. Let your Celsitude make +certain acquaintance with error in regard to the most illustrious +person whom you have in hold. Not that Melek Richard caused the +death of the Marquess Conrad; but I, the Ancient, the Lord of +Assassins, Fulness of Light, for good cause, namely to save my +friend the same Melek from injurious death at the hands of the +Marquess. And him, the said Melek, I am resolved at all hazards to +defend by means of the silent smiters who serve me. So farewell; +and may He protect your Celsitude whom we diversely worship.'</p> +<p>As with every business of the Old Man's, preparations were soon +and silently made. In three or four days' time Jehane strained the +young Fulke to her bosom, took affectionate humble leave of her +master, and left the green valley of Lebanon on her embassy.</p> +<p>She was sent down to the coast in the manner becoming the estate +of a Sultan's favourite wife. She never set foot on the ground, +never even saw it. She was in a close-curtained litter, herself +veiled to the eyes. Sitting with her was a vast old Turkish woman, +whom in the harem they called the Mother of Flowers. Mules bore the +litter, eunuchs on mules surrounded it. On all sides, a third line +of defence, rode the janissaries, hooded in white, on white Arabian +horses. So they came swiftly to Tortosa, whose lord, in strict +alliance with him of Musse, little knew that in paying homage to +the shrouded cage he was cap-in-hand to Jehane of Picardy. Long +galleys took up the burden of the mountain roads, dipped and +furrowed across the Ægean, and touched land at Salonika. +Hence by relays of bearers Jehane was carried darkly to Marburg in +Styria, where at last she saw the face of the sky.</p> +<p>They took her to the inn and unveiled her. Then the chief of the +eunuchs handed her a paper which he had written himself, being +deprived of a tongue:—'Madame, Fragrance of the Harem, +Gulzareen (which is to say, Golden Rose), thus I am commanded by my +dreadful master. From this hour and place you are free to do what +seems best to your wisdom. The letters of our lord will be sent +forward by the proper bearers of them, one to Gratz, where the +Archduke watches the Melek, and one to the Emperor of the Romans, +wherever he may be found. In Gratz is he whom you seek. This day +six months I shall be here to attend your Sufficiency.' He bowed +three times, and went away.</p> +<p>'Now, mother,' said Jehane to the old duenna, 'do for me what I +bid you, and quickly. Get me brown juice for my skin, and a ragged +kirtle and bodice, such as the Egyptians wear. Give me money to +line it, and then let me go.' All this was done. Jehane put on vile +raiment which barely covered her, stained her fair face, neck, and +arms brown, and let her hair droop all about her. Then she went +barefoot out, hugging herself against the cold, being three months +gone with child, and took the road over barren moorland to +Gratz.</p> +<p>She had not seen King Richard for nearly two years, at the +thought of which thing and of him the hot blood leapt up, to thrust +and tingle in her face. She did not mean to see him now if she +could help it, for she knew just how far she could withstand him; +she would save him and then go back. Thus she reasoned with herself +as she trudged: 'Jehane, ma mye, thou art wife now to a wise old +man, who is good to thee, and has exalted thee above all his women. +Thou must have no lovers now. Only save him, save him, save him, +Lord Jesus, Lady Mary!' She treated this as a prayer, and kept it +very near her lips all the way to Gratz, except when she felt +herself flush all over with the thought, 'School of God! Is so +great a king to be prayed for, as if he were a sick monk?' +Nevertheless, she prayed more than she flushed. Nothing disturbed +her; she slept in woods, in byres, in stackyards; bought what she +needed for food, attracted no attention, and got no annoyance +worthy the name. At the closing in of the fifth day she saw the +walls of the city rise above the black moors into the sky, and the +towers above them. The dome of a church, gilded, caught the dying +sun's eye; its towers were monstrous tall, round, and peaked with +caps of green copper. On the walls she counted seven other towers, +heavy, squat, flat-roofed fortresses with huge battlements. A great +flag hung in folds, motionless about a staff. All was a uniform +dun, muffled in stormy sky, lowering, remote from knowledge, and +alien.</p> +<p>But Jehane herself was of the North, and not impressionable. +Grey skies were familiar tents to her, moorlands roomy places, one +heap of stones much like another. But her heart beat high to know +Richard half a league away; all her trouble was how she should find +him in such a great town. It was dusk when she reached it; they +were about to shut the gates. She let them, having seen that there +were booths and hovels at the barriers, even a little church. It +was there she spent the night, huddled in a corner by the +altar.</p> +<p>Dawn is a laggard in Styria. She awoke before it was really +light, and crept out, munching a crust. The suburb was dead asleep, +a little breeze ruffled the poplars, and blew wrinkles on the town +ditch. About and about the walls she went, peering up at their +ragged edge, at the huge crumbling towers, at the storks on steep +roofs. 'Eh, Lord God, here lies in torment my lovely king!' she +cried to herself. The keen breeze freshened, the cloud-wrack went +racing westward; it left the sky clean and bare. Out of the east +came the red sun, and struck fire upon the dome of Saint Stanislas. +Out of a high window then came the sound of a man singing, a sharp +strong voice, tremulous in the open notes. She held her bosom as +she heard—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Al entrada del tems clar, eya!<br /> +Per joja recomençar, eya!<br /> +Vol la regina mostrar<br /> +Qu'el' es si amoroza.</div> +<p>The sun kindled her lifted face, filled her wet eyes with light, +and glistened on her praying lips.</p> +<p>After that her duty was clear, as she conceived it. She dared +not attempt the tower: that would reveal her to him. But she could +not leave it. She must wait to learn the effect of her lord's +letter, wait to see the bearer of it: here she would wait, where +she could press the stones which bore up the stones pressed by +Richard. So she did, crouching on the earth by the wall, sheltered +against the wind or the wet by either side of a buttress, getting +her food sparingly from the booths at the gate, or of charity. The +townsmen of Gratz, hoarse-voiced touzleheads mostly, divined her to +be an anchoress, a saint, or an unfortunate. She was not of their +country, for her hair was burnt yellow like a Lombard's, and her +eyes green; her face, tanned and searching, was like a Hungarian's; +they thought that she wove spells with her long hands. On this +account at first she was driven away on to the moors; but she +always returned to her place in the angle, and counted that a day +gained when she knew by Richard's strong singing that he yet lived. +His songs told her more than that: they were all of love, and if +her name came not in her image did. She knew by the mere pitch of +his voice—who so well?—when he was occupied with her +and when not. Mostly he sang all the morning from the moment the +sun struck his window. Thus she judged him a light sleeper. From +noon to four there was no sound; surely then he slept. He sang +fitfully in the evening, not so saliently; more at night, if there +was a moon; and generally he closed his eyes with a stave of <i>Li +dous consire</i>, that song which he had made of and for her.</p> +<p>When she had been sitting there for upwards of a month, and +still no sign from the bearer of the letter, she saw Gilles de +Gurdun come halting up the poplar avenue and pry about the walls, +much as she herself had done. She knew him at once for all his +tatters, this square-faced, low-browed Norman. How he came there, +if not as a slot-hound comes, she could not guess; but she knew +perfectly well what he was about. The blood-instinct had led him, +inflexible man, from far Acre across the seas, over the sharp +mountains and enormous plains; the blood-instinct had brought him +as truly as ever love led her—more truly, indeed. Here he +was, with murder still in his heart.</p> +<p>Watching him through the meshes of her hair, elbowing her arms +on her knees, she thought, What should she do? Plead? Nay, dare she +plead for so royal a head, for so great a heart, so great a king, +for one so nearly god that, for a sacrifice, she could have yielded +up no more to very God? This strife tore her to pieces, while +Gurdun snuffled round the walls, actually round the buttress where +she crouched, spying out the entries. On one side she feared +Gilles, on the other scorned what he could do. There was the leper! +He made Gilles terrible; even her sacrifice on Lebanon might not +avail against such as he. But King Richard! But this strong singer! +But this god of war! Gilles came round the walls for a second time, +nosing here and there, stopping, shaking his head, limping on. Then +she heard the King's voice singing, high and sharp and spiring; his +glorious voice, keener than any man's, as pure as any boy's, +singing with astounding gaiety, <i>'Al entrada del tems clar, +eya!'</i></p> +<p>Gilles stopped as one struck, and gaped up at the tower. To see +his stupid mouth open, Jehane's bosom heaved with pride well-nigh +insufferable. Had any woman, since Mary conceived, such a lover as +hers! 'Oh, Gilles, Gilles, go you on with your knife in your vest. +What can you do, little oaf, against King Richard?' Gilles went in +by the gate, and she let him go. He was away two days, by which +time she had cause to alter her mind. The prisoner sang nothing; +and presently a man dressed like a Bohemian came out of the town +and spoke to her. This was Cogia, the Assassin, bearer of the +letter.</p> +<p>'Well, Cogia?' said Jehane, holding herself.</p> +<p>'Mistress, the letter of our lord has been delivered. I think it +may go hard with the Melek.'</p> +<p>'What, Cogia? Does the Archduke dare?'</p> +<p>'The Archduke, mistress, desires not the Melek's death. He is a +worthy man. But many do desire it—kings of the West, kinsmen +of the Marquess, above all the Melek's blood-brother. One of that +prince's men, as I judge him, is with him now—one of your +country, mistress.'</p> +<p>In a vision she saw the leper again, a dull smear in the sunny +waste, scratching himself on a white stone. She saw him come +hopping from rock to rock, his wagging finger, shapeless face, +tongueless voice.</p> +<p>'Mistress—' said Cogia. She turned blank eyes upon him. 'I +pray,' she said; 'I pray. Has God no pity?'</p> +<p>Cogia shrugged. 'What has God to do with pity? The end of the +world is in His hand already. The Melek is a king, and the Norman +dung in his sight. Who knows the end but God, and how shall He pity +what He hath decreed for wisdom? This I say, if the King dies the +man dies.'</p> +<p>Jehane threw up her head. 'The King will not die, Cogia. Yet +to-morrow, if the man comes not out, I will go to seek him.'</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Early in the morning Gilles did come out, turned the angle of +the ditch, and shuffled towards her, his head hung. Jehane moved +swiftly out from the shadow of the buttress and confronted him. She +folded her arms over her breast; and at that moment the shadow of +Richard's tower was capped with the shadow of Richard himself. But +she saw nothing of this. 'Halt there, Sir Gilles,' she said. The +Norman gave a squeal, like a hog startled at his trough, and went +dead-fire colour.</p> +<p>'Ha, Heart of Jesus!' said Gilles de Gurdun.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIb" id="CHAPTER_XIIb"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER OF STRIFE IN THE DARK</h3> +<p>One very great power of King Richard's had never served him +better than now, the power of immense quiescence, whereunder he +could sit by day or by night as inert as a stone, a block hewn into +shape of a man, neither to be moved by outside fret nor by the +workings of his own mind. Into this rapt state he fell when the +prison doors shut on him, and so remained for three or four weeks, +alone while the Fates were spinning. The Archduke came daily to him +with speeches, injuries to relate, injuries to impart. King Richard +hardly winked an eyelid. The Archduke hinted at ransom, and Richard +watched the wall behind his head; he spoke of letters received from +this great man or that, which made ransom not to be thought of; and +Richard went to sleep. What are you to do with a man who meets your +offers and threats with the same vast unconcern? If it is matter +for resentment, Richard gave it; if it is a matter which money may +leaven, it is to be observed that while Richard offered no money +his enemies offered much.</p> +<p>These letters to the Archduke were not of the sort which fill +the austere folios of the Codex Diplomaticus as bins with bran, or +make Rymer's book as dry as Ezekiel's valley. They were pungent, +pertinent, allusive, succinct, supplementing, as with meat, those +others. The Count of Saint-Pol wrote, for instance, 'Kinsman, kill +the killer of your kin,' and could hardly have expressed himself +better under the circumstances. King Philip of France sent two +letters: one by a herald, very long, and chiefly in the language of +the Epistle of Saint James, designed for the Codex. The other lay +in the vest of a Savigniac monk, and was to this effect: 'In a +ridded acre the husbandman can sow with hopes of good harvesting. +When the corn is garnered he calleth about him his friends and +fellow-labourers, and cheer abounds. Labour and pray. I pray.' Last +came a limping pilgrim from Aquitaine, whose hat was covered with +metal saints, and in his left shoe a wad of parchment, which had +made him limp. This proved to be a letter from John Count of +Mortain, which said, 'Now I see in secret. But when I am come into +my kingdom I will reward openly.' The Archduke was by no means a +wise man; but it was not easy to know something of European +politics and mistake the meaning of letters like these. If it was a +question of money, here was money. And imagine now the Archduke, +bursting with the urgent secrets of so many princes, making +speeches about them—through all of which King Richard +slumbered! 'Damn it, he flouts me, does he?' said Austria at last; +and left him alone. From that moment Richard began to sing.</p> +<p>Let us do no wrong to Luitpold: it was not merely a question of +money, but money turned the scale. Not only had Richard mortally +affronted his gaoler; he had innumerably offended him. The Archduke +was punctilious; Richard with his petulant foot stamped on every +little point he laboured, or else, like a buttress, let him labour +them in vain. He did not for a moment disguise his fatigue in +Luitpold's presence, his relief at his absence, or his unconcern +with his properties. This galled the man. He could not, for the +life of him, affect indifference to Richard's indifference. When +the messenger, therefore, arrived from the Old Man of Musse, the +insolence of the message was most unfortunate. The Archduke, angry +as he was, could afford to be cool. He played on the Old Man the +very part which Richard had played on him—that is, treated +him and his letter as though they were not.</p> +<p>Then he broke with Richard altogether; and then came Gilles de +Gurdun with secret words and offers.</p> +<p>The Archduke drained his beer-horn, and with his big hand wrung +his beard dry. He winked hard at Gilles, whom he thought to be a +hired assassin of deplorable address sent, probably, by Count +John.</p> +<p>'Are you angry enough to do what you propose?' he asked him. 'I +am not, let me tell you.'</p> +<p>'I have been trying to kill him for four years,' said +Gilles.</p> +<p>'And are you man enough, my fellow?' Gilles cast down his +eyes.</p> +<p>'I have not been man enough yet, since he still lives. I think I +am now.' Then there was a pause.</p> +<p>'What is your price?' asked Luitpold after this.</p> +<p>Gilles said, 'I have no price'; and the Archduke, 'You suit my +humour exactly.'</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Richard, I say, had begun to sing from the day he was sure that +the Archduke had given him up. Physical relief may have had +something to do with that, but moral certainty had more. What made +him fume or freeze was doubt. There was very little room for doubt +just now but that his enemies would prove too many for Austria's +scruples. His friends? He was not aware that he had any friends. +Des Barres, Gaston, Auvergne, Milo? What did they amount to? His +sister Joan, his mother, his brothers? Here he shrugged, knowing +his own race too well. He had never heard of the Angevin who helped +any Angevin but himself. Lastly, Jehane. He had lost her by his own +fault and her extreme nobility. Let her go, glorious among women! +He was alone. Odd creature, he began to sing.</p> +<p>Singing like a genius to the broad splash of sunlight on +brickwork, Gilles de Gurdun found him. Richard was sitting on a +bench against the wall, one knee clasped in his hands, his head +thrown back, his throat rippling with the tide of his music. He +looked as fresh and gallant a figure as ever in his life; his beard +trimmed sharply, his strong hair brushed back, his doublet green, +his trunks of fine leather, his shoes of yet finer. The song he was +upon was <i>Li Chastel d' Amors</i>, which runs—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Las portas son de parlar<br /> +Al eissir e al entrar:<br /> +Qui gen non sab razonar,<br /> +<br /> +Defors li ven a estar.<br /> +E las claus son de prejar:<br /> +Ab cel obron li cortes—</div> +<p>and so on through many verses, made continuous by the fact that +the end of each sixth line forms the rhyme of the next five. Now, +Gilles knew nothing of Southern minstrelsy, and if he had, the +pitch he was screwed to would have shrilled such knowledge out of +him. At '<i>Defors li ven a estar</i>,' he came in, and sturdily +forward. Richard saw him and put up his hand: on went the hammered +rhymes—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>E las claus son de prejar:<br /> +Ab cel obron li cortes.</div> +<p>Here was a little break. Gilles, very dark, took a step; up shot +Richard's warning hand—</p> +<div class='blockquot'>Dedinz la clauson qu'i es<br /> +Son las mazos dels borges . . .</div> +<p>On went the exulting voice after the new rhymes, gayer and yet +more gay. <i>Li Chastel d'Amors</i> has twelve linked verses, and +King Richard, wound up in their music, sang them all. When at last +he had stopped, he said, 'Now, Gurdun, what do you want here?'</p> +<p>Gilles came a step or two of his way, and so again a step or +two, and so again, by jerks. When he was so near that it was to be +seen what he had in his right hand, the King got up. Gilles saw +that he had light fetters on his ankles which could not stop his +walking. Richard folded his arms.</p> +<p>'Oh, Gurdun,' he said, 'what a fool you are.'</p> +<p>Gurdun vented a sob of rage, and flung himself forward at his +enemy. He was a shorter man, but very thickset, with arms like +steel. He had a knife, rage like a thirst, he was free. Richard, as +he came on, hit him full on the chin, and sent him flying. Gurdun +picked himself up again, his mouth twitching, his eyes so small as +to be like slits. Knife in hand he leaned against the wall to fetch +up his breath.</p> +<p>'Well,' said Richard, 'Have you had enough?'</p> +<p>'Yes, you wolf,' said Gurdun, 'I shall wait till it is +dark.'</p> +<p>'I think it may suit you better,' was the King's comment as he +sat down on the bed. Gurdun squatted by the wall, watching him. +After about an hour of humming airs to himself Richard lay full +length, and in a short time Gilles ascertained that he was asleep. +This brought tears into the man's eyes; he began to cry freely. +Virgin Mary! Virgin Mary! why could he not kill this frozen devil +of a king? Was there a race in the world which bred such men, to +sleep with the knife at the throat? He rose to his feet, went to +look at the sleeper; but he knew he could not do his work. He +ranged the room incessantly, and at every second or third turn +brought up short by the bed. Sometimes he flashed up his long +knife; it always stayed the length of his arm, then flapped down to +his flank in dejection. 'If he wakes not I must go away. I cannot +do it so,' he told himself, as finally he sat down by the wall. It +grew dusk. He was tired, sick, giddy; his head dropped, he slept. +When he woke up, as with a snort he did, it was inky dark. Now was +the time, not even God could see him now. He turned himself about; +inch by inch he crept forward, edging along by the bed's edge. +Painfully he got on his knees, threw up his head. 'Jehane, my +robbed lost soul!' he howled, and stabbed with all his might. King +Richard, cat-like behind him, caught him by the hair, and cuffed +his ears till they sang.</p> +<p>'Ah, dastard cur! Ah, mongrel! Ah, white-galled Norman eft! +God's feet, if I pommel you for this!' Pommel him he did; and, +having drawn blood at his ears, he turned him over his knee as if +he had been a schoolboy, and lathered his rump with a chair-leg. +This humiliating punishment had humiliating effects. Gilles +believed himself a boy in the cloister-school again, with his smock +up. 'Mea culpa, mea culpa! Hey, reverend father, have pity!' he +began to roar. Dropping him at last, Richard tumbled him on to the +bed. 'Blubber yourself to sleep, clown,' he told him. 'Blessed ass, +I have heard you snoring these two hours, snoring and rootling over +your jack-knife. Sleep, man. But if you rootle again I flog again: +mind you that.' Gilles slept long, and was awoken in full light by +the sound of King Richard calling for his breakfast.</p> +<p>The gaoler came pale-faced in. 'A thousand pardons, sire, a +thousand pardons—'</p> +<p>'Bring my food, Dietrich,' says Richard, 'and send the barber. +Also, the next time the Archduke desires murder done let him find a +fellow who knows his trade. This one is a bungler. Here's the third +time to my knowledge he has missed. Off with you.'</p> +<p>Gilles lay face downwards, abject on the bed. In came the King's +breakfast, a jug of wine, some white bread. The King's beard was +trimmed, his hair brushed, fresh clothes put on. He dismissed his +attendants, crossed over the room like a stalking cat, and gave +Gilles a clap behind which made him leap in the air.</p> +<p>'Get up, Gurdun,' said Richard. 'Tell me that you are ashamed of +yourself, and then listen to me.'</p> +<p>Gilles went down on one knee. 'God knows, my lord King,' he +mumbled, 'that I have done shamefully by you.' He got up, his face +clouded, his jaw went square. 'But not more shamefully, by the same +God, than you have done by me.'</p> +<p>The King looked at him. 'I have never justified myself to any +man,' he said quietly, 'nor shall I now to you. I take the +consequences of all my deeds when and as they come. But from the +like of you none will ever come. I speak of men. Now I will tell +you this very plainly. The next time you cross my path adversely, I +shall kill you. You are a nuisance, not because you desire my life, +but because you never get it. Try no more, Gurdun.'</p> +<p>'Where is Jehane, my lord?' said Gurdun, very black.</p> +<p>'I cannot tell you where the Countess of Anjou may be,' he was +answered. 'She is not here, and is not in France. I believe she is +in Palestine.'</p> +<p>'Palestine! Palestine! Lord Christ, have you turned her away?' +Gilles cried, beside himself. Again King Richard looked at him, but +afterwards shrugged.</p> +<p>'You speak after your kind. Now, Gurdun, get you home. Go to my +friends in Normandy, to my brother Mortain, to my brother of Rouen; +bid them raise a ransom. I must go back. You have disturbed me, +sickened me of assassination, reminded me of what I intended to +forget. If I get any more assassins I shall break prison and the +Archduke's head, and I should be sorry to do that, as I have no +grudge against him. Find Des Barres, Gurdun, raise all Normandy. +Find above all Mercadet, and set him to work in Poictou. As for +England, my brother Geoffrey will see to it. Aquitaine I leave to +the Lord of Béarn. Off now, Gurdun, do as I bid you. But if +you speak another word to me of Madame d'Anjou, by God's death I +will wring your neck. You are not fit to speak of me: how should +you dare speak of her? You! A stab-i'-the-dark, a black-entry +cutter of throats, a hedgerow knifer! Foh, you had better speak +nothing, but be off. Stay, I will call the castellan.' And so he +did, roaring through the key-hole. The gaoler came up flying.</p> +<p>'Conduct this animal into the fresh air, Dietrich,' said King +Richard; 'send him about his business. Tell your master he will now +do better. And when that is done, let me go on to the leads that I +may walk a little.'</p> +<p>Gurdun followed his guide speechless; but the Archduke was very +vexed, and declined to see him. 'I decide to be a villain, and he +makes me a vain villain,' said the great man. 'Bid him go to the +devil.' So then Gilles with head hanging came out of the gate, and +Jehane leaped from her angle to confront him.</p> +<p>To say that he dropped like a shot bird is to say wrong; for a +bird drops compact, but Gilles went down disjunct. His jaw dropped, +his hands dropped, his knees, last his head. 'Ha, Heart of Jesus!' +he said, and covered his eyes. She began to talk like a hissing +snake.</p> +<p>'What have you done with the King? What have you done?' King +Richard on the roof peered down and saw her. He turned quite +grey.</p> +<p>'I could do nothing, Jehane,' Gilles whimpered; 'I went to kill +him.'</p> +<p>'You fool, I know it. I saw you go. I could have stayed you as I +do now. But I would not.'</p> +<p>'Why not, Jehane?'</p> +<p>She spurned him with a look. 'Because I love King Richard, and +know you, Gilles, what you can do and what not. Pshutt! You are a +rat.'</p> +<p>'Rat,' says Gilles, 'I may be, but a rat may be offended. This +king robbed me of you, and slew my father and brothers. Therefore I +hated him. Is it not enough reason?'</p> +<p>Her eyes grew cold with scorn. 'Your father? Your brothers?' she +echoed him. 'Pooh, I have given him more than that. I have burned +my heart quite dry. I have accepted shame, I have sold my body and +counted as nothing my soul. Robbed you? Nay, but I robbed myself, +and robbed him also, when I cut him out of my own flesh. From the +day when, through my prayers against blood, he was affianced to the +Spanish woman, I held him off me, though I drained more blood to do +it. Then, that not sufficing to save him, I gave myself to the Old +Man of Musse; to be his wife, one of his women, do you understand? +His wife, I say. And you talk now of father and brothers and your +robbery, to me who am become an old man's toy, one of many? What +are they to my soul, and my heart's blood, to my life and light, +and the glory that I had from Richard? Oh, you fool, you fool, what +do you know of love? You think it is embracing, clipping, playing +with a chin: you fool, it is scorching your heart black, it is +welling blood by drops, it is fasting in sight of food, death where +sweet life offers, shame held more honourable than honour. Oh, +Saint Mary, star of women, what do men know of love?' Dry-eyed and +pinched, she looked about her as if to find an answer in the sullen +moors. If she had looked up to the heavy skies she might have had +one; for on the tower's top stood King Richard like a ghost.</p> +<p>'Listen now to me, Jehane,' said Gilles, red as fire. 'I have +hated your King for four years, and three times sought his life. +But now he has beaten me altogether. Too strong, too much king, for +a man to dare anything singly against him. What! he slept, and I +could not do it; and then I slept, and he awoke and let me lie. +Then once again I woke and thought him still sleeping, and stabbed +the bed; and he came behind me, stealthy as a cat, and trounced me +over his knee like a child. Oh, oh, Jehane, he is more than man, +and I by so much less. And now, and now, he sends me out to win his +ransom as if I were an old lover of his, and I am going to do it! +Why, God in glory look down upon us, what is the force that he +hath?'</p> +<p>Gilles now shivered and looked about him; but Jehane, having +mastered her breath, smiled.</p> +<p>'He is King,' she said. 'Come, Gilles, I will go with you. You +shall find the Abbot Milo, and I the Queen-Mother. I have the ear +of her.'</p> +<p>'I will do as I am bid, Jehane,' said the cowed man, 'because I +needs must.'</p> +<p>As they went away together, King Richard on the roof threw up +his arms to the sky, howling like a night wolf. 'Now, God, Thou +hast stricken me enough. Now listen Thou, I shall strike if I +can.'</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>After a while came Cogia the Assassin; to whom Jehane said, +'Cogia, I must take a journey with this man. You shall put us on +the way, and wait for me until I come again.'</p> +<p>'Mistress,' replied Cogia, 'I am your slave. Do as you +will.'</p> +<p>She put on the dress of a religious, Gilles the weeds of a +pilgrim from Jerusalem. Then Cogia bought them asses in Gratz and +led them down to Trieste. They found a ship going to Bordeaux, went +on board, had a fair passage, passed the Pillars of Hercules on +their tenth day out, and were in the Gironde in five more. At +Bordeaux they separated. Gilles went to Poictiers in a company of +pilgrims; Jehane, having learned that Queen Berengère was at +Cahors, turned her face to the Gascon hills. But she had left +behind her a prisoner to whom death could bring the only ransom +worth a thought.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIIb" id="CHAPTER_XIIIb"></a>CHAPTER +XIII</h2> +<h3>OF THE LOVE OF WOMEN</h3> +<p>'Ask me no more how I did in those days,' writes Abbot Milo. +'Mercy smile upon me in the article of death, but I worked for the +ransom of King Richard as (I hope) I should for that of King +Christ. Many an abbey of Touraine goes lean now because of me; many +a mass is wrought in a pewter chalice that Richard might come home. +Yet I soberly believe that Madame Alois, King Philip's sister, was +precious above rubies in the work.'</p> +<p>I think he is right. That stricken lady, in the habit of a grey +nun of Fontevrault, came by night to Paris, and found her brother +with John of Mortain. They had been upon the very business. Philip, +not all knave, had been moved by the news of Richard's immobility. +He had had some of De Gurdun's report.</p> +<p>'Christ-dieu,' he said, 'a great king calm in chains! And my +brother Richard. Yet God knows I hate him.' So he went muttering +on. The Count edged in his words as he could.</p> +<p>'He hates you, indeed, sire. He hates me. He hates all of +us.'</p> +<p>'I think we could find him reasons for that, my friend, if he +lacked them,' said Philip shrewdly. 'Do you know that De Gurdun is +in Poictou come from Styria?'</p> +<p>Count John said nothing; but he did know it very well. When they +announced Madame Alois the King started, and the Count went sick +white.</p> +<p>'We will receive her Grace,' said Philip, and advanced towards +the door for the purpose. In she came in her old eager, stumbling, +secret way, knelt in a hurry to kiss her brother's hand, then rose +and looked intently at John of Mortain.</p> +<p>The King said, 'You visit us late, sister; but your occasions +may drive you.'</p> +<p>'They do drive me, sire. I have seen the Sieur Gilles de Gurdun. +King Richard is in hold at Gratz, and must be delivered.'</p> +<p>'By you, sister?'</p> +<p>'By me, sire.'</p> +<p>'You grow Christian, Madame.'</p> +<p>'It is my need, sire. I have done King Richard a great wrong. +This is not tolerable to me.'</p> +<p>'Eh,' says Philip, 'not so fast. Was no wrong done to you?'</p> +<p>'Wrong was done me,' said the white girl, 'but not by him.'</p> +<p>'The wrong lies in his blood. What though the wrong-doer is +dead? His blood must answer it.'</p> +<p>Alois shivered, and so, for that matter, did one other there. +She answered, 'I pray for his death. Dying or dead, his blood shall +answer it.'</p> +<p>'You speak darkly, sister.'</p> +<p>'I live in the dark,' said Alois.</p> +<p>'King Richard has affronted my house in you sister.'</p> +<p>But she said, 'I have affronted King Richard through his +house.'</p> +<p>'Is this all you have to say, Alois?'</p> +<p>'No, sire,' she told him, with a fierce and biting look at +Mortain; 'but it is all I need say now.'</p> +<p>It was. A cry broke strangling from the Count. 'Ha, Jesus! Sire! +Save my brother!' The wretch could bear no more. The woman's eyes +were like swords.</p> +<p>King Philip marvelled. 'You!' he said, 'you!' John put out his +hands. Oh, sire, Madame is in the right. I am a wicked man. I must +make my brother amends. He must be saved.'</p> +<p>King Philip scratched his head. 'Who is in the dark if not I? I +will deal with you presently, Mortain. But you, Madame,' he turned +hotly on the lady, 'you must be plainer. What is your zeal for the +King of England? He is your cousin, and might have been your +husband.' Alois flinched, but Philip went roughly on. 'Do you owe +him thanks that he is not? Is this what spurs you?'</p> +<p>She looked doubtfully. 'I owe him honour, Philip,' she said +slowly. 'He is a great king.'</p> +<p>'Great king, great king!' Philip broke out; 'pest! and great +rascal. There is no truth in him, no bottom, no thanks, no esteem. +He counts me as nothing.'</p> +<p>'To him,' said Alois, 'you are nothing.'</p> +<p>'Madame,' said Philip, 'I am King of France, your brother and +lord. He is my vassal; owes fealty and breaks it, signs treaties +and levies war; hectors me and laughs, kills my servants and +laughs. He is my cousin, but I am his suzerain. I do not choose to +be mocked. There will be no rest for this kingdom while he is in +it.' He stopped, then turned to the shaking man. 'As for you, Count +of Mortain, I must have an explanation. My sister loves her +enemies: it is a Christian virtue. I have not found it one of +yours. You, perhaps, fear your enemies, even caged. Is this your +thought? You have made yourself snug in Aquitaine, Count; you are +not unknown in Anjou, I think. Do you begin to wish that you might +be? Are you, by chance, a little oversnug? I candidly say that I +prefer you for my neighbour in those parts. I can deal with you. Do +me the obedience to speak.'</p> +<p>'Sire,' said the Count, spreading out his hands, 'Madame Alois +has turned me. I am a sinner, but I can restore. My brother is my +lord, a clement prince—'</p> +<p>'Pish!' said King Philip, and gave him his back.</p> +<p>'Madame, go to bed,' he said to his sister. 'I shall pay dear +for it, but I will not oppose my cousin's ransom. Be content with +that.' Alois slipped out. Then he turned upon John like a flash of +flame.</p> +<p>'Now, Mortain,' he said, 'what proof is there of that old +business of my sister's?'</p> +<p>John showed him a scared eye—the milky eye of a drowned +man. 'Ah, God, sire, there is none at all—none—none!' +He had no breath. Philip raised his voice.</p> +<p>'Look to yourself; I shall not help you. Leave my lands, go +where you will, hide, bury your head, drown yourself. If I spoke +what lies bottomed in my heart I should kill you with mere words. +But there is worse for you in store. There will be war in France, +if I know Richard; but mark what I say, after that there shall be +war in England.' The thought of Richard overwhelmed him: he gave a +queer little sigh. 'See, now, how much love and what lives of women +are spent for one tall man, who gives nothing, and asks nothing, +but waits, looking lordly, while they give and give and give. Let +Richard come, since women cry for wounds. But you!' He flamed +again. 'Get you to hell: you are all a liar. Avoid me, lest I learn +more of you.'</p> +<p>'Dear sire,' John began. Philip loathed him. 'Ah, get you gone, +snake, or I tread upon you,' he said; and the prince avoided. So +much was wrought by Alois of France.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>No visitation of a dead woman could have shocked Queen +Berengère more suddenly than the apparition of a tall nun, +when she saw it was Jehane. She put her hand upon her heart.</p> +<p>'Ah,' she said, 'you trouble me again, Jehane? Am I never to +rest from you?'</p> +<p>jehane did not falter. 'Do I have any rest? The King is chained +in Styria; he must be redeemed. It is your turn. I saved his life +for you once by selling my own. Now I am the wife of an old man, +with nothing more to sell. Do you sell something.'</p> +<p>'Sell? Sell? What can I sell that he will buy?' whined +Berengère. 'He loves me not.'</p> +<p>'Well,' said Jehane, 'what has that to do with it? Do you not +love him?'</p> +<p>'I am his miserable wife. I have nothing to sell.</p> +<p>'Sell your pride, Berengère,' says Jehane. +Berengère bit her lip.</p> +<p>'You speak strangely to me, woman.'</p> +<p>Says Jehane, 'I am grown strange. Once I was a girl dishonoured +because I loved. Now I am a wife greatly honoured because I do not +love.'</p> +<p>'You do not love your husband?'</p> +<p>'How should I,' said Jehane, 'when I love yours? But I honour my +husband, and watch over his honour: he is good to me.'</p> +<p>'You dare to tell me that you love the King? Ah, you have been +with him again!' Jehane looked critically at her.</p> +<p>'I have not seen him, nor ever shall till he is dead. But we +must save him, you and I, Berengère.'</p> +<p>Berengère, the little toy woman, when she saw how noble +the other stood, and how inflexible, came wheedling to her, with +hands to touch her chin.</p> +<p>'Jehane, sister, let it be my part to save Richard. Indeed I +love him. You have done so much, to you now he should be nothing. +Let me do it, let me do it, please, Jehane!' So she stroked and +coaxed. The tall nun smiled.</p> +<p>'Must I always be giving, and my well never be dry? Yes, yes, I +will trust you. No; you shall not kiss me yet; I have not done. Go +to the Queen-Mother, go to the King your brother. Go not to the +French King, nor to Count John. He is more cruel than hyænas, +and more a coward. Find the Abbot Milo, find the Lord of +Béarn, find the Sieur des Barres, find Mercadet. Raise +England, sell your jewels, your crown; eh, God of Gods, sell your +pretty self. The Queen-Mother is a fierce woman, but she will help +you. Do these things faithfully, and I leave King Richard's life in +your hands. May I trust you?' The other girl looked up at her, +wistfully, still touching her chin.</p> +<p>'Kiss me, Jehane!'</p> +<p>'Yes, yes, I will kiss you now, Frozen Heart. You are +thawed.'</p> +<p>Jehane, going back to Bordeaux, found Cogia with a ship, wherein +she sailed for Tortosa. But Berengère, Queen of England, +played a queen's part.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIVb" id="CHAPTER_XIVb"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>HOW THE LEOPARD WAS LOOSED</h3> +<p>The burning thought of Jehane cut off, sixty feet below him, yet +far as she could ever be, swept across Richard's mind like a +roaring wind, and ridded the room for wilder guests. In came +stalking Might-have-been and No-more, holding each by a shrinking +shoulder the delicate maid of his first delight, Jehane, lissom in +a thin gown; Jehane like a bud, with her long hair alight. Her hair +was loose, her face aflame; she was very young, very much to be +kissed, fresh and tall—Oh, God, the mere loveliness of her! +In came the scent of wet stubbles, the fresh salt air of Normandy, +the pale gold of the shaws, the pale sky, the mild October sun. He +felt again the stoop, again the lift of her to his horse, again the +stern ride together; saw again the Dark Tower, and all the love and +sweet pleasure that they made. The bride in the church turning her +proud shy head, the bride in his arm, clinging as they flew, the +bride in the tower, the crowned Countess, the nestling +mate—oh, impossibly lost! Inconceivably put away! Eternally +his lover and bride!</p> +<p>Pity, if you can, this lonely heart, this king in chains, this +hot Angevin, son of Henry, son of Geoffrey, son of Fulke, this +Yea-and-Nay. He who dared not look upon the city, lest, seeing, he +should risk all to take it, had now looked upon the bride unaware, +and could not touch her. The fragrance of her, the sacred air in +which a loved woman moves, had floated up to him: his by all the +laws of hell, in spite of heaven; but his no more. Such nearness +and such deprivation—to see, to desire, and not to +seize—flung his wits abroad; from that hour his was a lost +soul. Hungry, empty-eyed, ranging, feverish, he lashed up and down +his prison-room, with bare teeth gleaming, and desperate soft +strides. No thought he had but mere despair, no hope but the mere +ravin of a beast. He was across the room in four; he turned, he +lunged back; at the wall he threw up his head, turned and lunged, +turned and lunged again. He was always at it, or rocking on his +bed. No hope, nor thought, nor reckoning had he, but to say Yea +against God, Who said him Nay.</p> +<p>So, many times, had he stood, fatal enemy of himself. His Yea +would hold fast while none accepted it, his Nay while no one +obeyed. But the supple knees of men sickened him of his own decree. +'These fools accept my bidding: the bidding then is foolishness.' +So when Fate, so when God, underwrote his bill, <i>Le Roy le +veult</i>, he scorned himself and the bill, and risked wide heaven +to make either nought.</p> +<p>If Austria had murdered him then, it had perhaps been well; but +his enemies being silenced, his friends did enemies' work +unknowing, by giving him scope to mar himself. The ransom was +raised at the price of blood and prayers, the ransom was paid. The +Earl of Leicester and Bishop of Salisbury brought it; so the +Leopard was loosed. With a quick shake of the head, as if doing +violence to himself, he turned his face westward and pushed through +the Low Countries to the sea. There he was met by his English +peers, by Longchamp, by his brother of Rouen, by men who loved and +men who feared; but he had no word for any. Grim and hungry he +stalked through the lane they made him, on to the galley; folded in +his cloak there, lonely he paced the bridge. He was rowed to the +west with his eyes fixed always on the east, away from his kingdom +to where he supposed his longing to be. His mother met him at +Dunwich: it seemed he knew her not. 'My son, my son Richard,' she +said as she knelt to him. 'Get up, Madame,' he bid her; 'I have +work to do.' He rode savagely to London through the grey Essex +flats; had himself crowned anew; went north with a force to lay +Lincolnshire waste; levelled castles, exacted relentless +punishment, exorbitant tribute, the last acquittance. He set a red +smudge over the middle of England, being altogether in that country +three months, a total to his name and reign of a poor six. Then he +left it for good and all, carrying away with him grudging men and +grudged money, and leaving behind the memory of a stone face which +always looked east, a sword, a heart aloof, the myth of a giant +knight who spoke no English and did no charity, but was without +fear, cruelly just, and as cold as an outland grave. If you ask an +Englishman what he thinks of Richard Yea-and-Nay, he will tell +you:—That was a king without pity or fear or love, +considering neither God, nor the enemy of God, nor unhappy men. If +the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, the love of Him is the +end of it. How could King Richard love God, who did not fear +enough; or we, who feared too much?</p> +<p>He crossed into Normandy, and at Honfleur was met by them who +loved him well; but he repaid them ill. Here also they seemed +remote from his acquaintance. Gaston of Béarn, with eyes +alight, came dancing down the quay, to be the first to kiss him. +Richard, shaking with fever (or what was like fever), gave him a +burning dry hand, but looked away from him, always hungrily to the +east. Des Barres, who had thrown off allegiance for his love, got +no thanks for it. He may have known Abbot Milo again, or Mercadet, +his lean good captain: he said nothing to either of them. His +friends were confounded: here was the gallant shell of King Richard +with a new insatiable tenant. So indeed they found it. There was +great business to be done: war, the holding of Assise, the +redressing of wrongs from the sea to the Pyrenees. He did it, but +in a terrible, hasty way. It appeared that every formal act +required fretted him to waste, that every violent act allowed gave +him little solace. It appeared that he was living desperately fast, +straining to fill up time, rather than use it, towards some +unknown, but (to him) certain end. His first act in Normandy, after +new coronation, was to besiege the border castles which the French +had filched in his absence. One of these was Gisors. He would not +go near Gisors; but conducted the leaguer from Rouen, as a +blindfold man plays chess; and from Rouen he reduced the great +castle in six weeks. One thing more he did there, which gave Gaston +a clue to his mood. He sent a present of money, a great sum, to an +old priest, curate of Saint-Sulpice; and when they told him that +the man was dead, and a great part of the church he had served +burnt out by King Philip, his face grew bleak and withered, and he +said, 'Then I will burn Philip out.' He had Gisors, castle, +churches, burgher-holds, the whole town, burned level with the +ground. There was not to be a stone on a stone: and it was so. +Gaston of Béarn slapped his thigh when he heard of this: +'Now,' he said, 'now at last I know what ails my King. He has seen +his lost mistress.'</p> +<p>He did so ruthlessly in Normandy that he went far to make his +power a standing dread to the fair duchy. On the rock at Les +Andelys he built a huge castle, to hang there like a thunder-cloud +scowling over the flats of the Seine. He called it, what his temper +gave no hint of (so dry with fever he was), the galliard hold. 'Let +me see Chastel-Gaillard stand ready in a year,' he said. 'Put on +every living man in Normandy if need be.' He planned it all +himself; rock of the rock it was to be, making the sheer yet more +sheer. He called it again his daughter, daughter of his conception +of Death. 'Build,' said he, 'my daughter Gaillarda. As I have +conceived her let the great birth be.' And it was so. For a bitter +christening, when all was done, he had his French prisoners thrown +down into the fosse; and they say that it rained blood upon him and +his artificers as they stood by that accursed font. The man was +mad. Nothing stayed him: for the first time since they who still +loved him had had him back, they heard him laugh, when his daughter +Gaillarda was brought forth. And, 'Spine of God,' he cried, 'this +is a saucy child of mine, and saucily shall she do by the French +power.' Then his face was wrenched by pain, as with a sob he said, +'I had a son Fulke.' Gaillarda did saucily enough, to tyrannise +over ten years of Philip's life; in the end, as all know, she +played the strumpet, and served the enemies of her father's house, +but not while Richard lived to rule her.</p> +<p>He drove Philip into a truce of years, pushed down into +Touraine, and thence went to Anjou, but not to sit still. He was +never still, never seemed to sleep, or get any of the solace of a +man. He ate voraciously, but was not nourished, drank long, but was +never drunken, revelled without mirth, hunted, fought, but got no +joy. He utterly refused to see the Queen, who was at Cahors in the +south. 'She is no wife of mine,' he said; 'let her go home.' +Tentative messages were brought by very tentative messengers from +his brother John. Good service, such and such, had been done in +Languedoc; so and so had been hanged, or gibbeted, so and so +rewarded: what had our dear and royal brother to say? To each he +said the same thing: 'Let my good brother come.' But John never +came.</p> +<p>No one knew what to make of him; he spoke to none of his +affairs, none dared speak to him. Milo writes in his book, 'The +King came back from Styria as one who should arise from the grave +with all the secrets of the chattering ghosts to brood upon. Some +worm gnawed his vitals, some maggot had drilled a hole in his +brain. I know not what possessed him or what could possess him +beside a devil. This I know, he never sent to me for direction in +spiritual affairs, nor (so far as I could learn) to any other +religious man. He never took the Sacrament, nor seemed to want it. +But be sure he wanted it most grievously.' So, insanely ridden, he +lived for three years, one of which would have worn a common man to +the bones. But the fire still crackled, freely fed; his eyes were +burning bright, his mind (when he gave it) was keen, his head (when +he lent it) seemed cool. What was he living for? Did Death himself +look askance at such a man? Or find him a good customer who sent +him so many souls? Two things only were clear: he sent messenger +after messenger to Rome, and he returned his wife's dowry. Those +must mean divorce or repudiation of marriage. Certainly the Queen's +party took it so, though the Queen herself clung pitifully to her +throne; and the Queen's party grew the larger for the belief.</p> +<p>Such as it was, the Queen's party nested in Aquitaine and the +Limousin, with all the turbulent lords of that duchy under its +flag. Prince John himself was with Berengère at Cahors, +biting his nails as was usual with him, one eye watching for +Richard's vengeance, one eye wide for any peace-offering from the +French King. He dared not act overtly against Richard, nor dared to +take up arms for him. So he waited. The end was not very far +off.</p> +<p>Count Eustace of Saint-Pol was the moving spirit in these parts, +grown to be an astute, unscrupulous man of near thirty years. His +spies kept him well informed of Richard's intolerable state; he +knew of the embassies to Rome, of the fierce murdering moods, of +the black moods, of the cheerless revelry and fruitless energy of +this great stricken Angevin. 'In some such hag-ridden day my enemy +may be led to overtax himself,' he considered. To that end he laid +a trap. He seized and fortified two hill-castles in the Limousin, +between which lay straggling a village called Chaluz. 'Let us get +Richard down here,' was his plan. 'He will think the job a light +one, and we shall nip him in the hills.' The Bishop of Beauvais +lent a hand, so did Adhémar Viscount of Limoges, and Achard +the lord of Chaluz, not because he desired, but because he was +forced by Limoges his suzerain. Another forced labourer was Sir +Gilles de Gurdun, who had been found by Saint-Pol doing work in +Poictou and won over after a few trials.</p> +<p>Now, when King Richard had been some four, nearly five, years at +home, neither nearer to his rest nor fitter for it than he had been +when he landed, he got word from the south that a great treasure +had been found in the Limousin. A man driving the plough on a +hillside by Chaluz had upturned a gold table, at which sat an +emperor, Charles or another, with his wife and children and the +lords of his council, all wrought in fine gold. 'I will have that +golden emperor,' said Richard, 'having just made one out of clay. +Let him be sent to me.' He spoke carelessly, as they all thought, +simply to get in his gibe at the new Emperor of the Romans, his +nephew, whom he had caused to be chosen; and seeing that that was +not the treasure he craved, it is like enough. But somebody took +his word into Languedoc, and somebody brought back word +(Saint-Pol's word) that the Viscount of Limoges, as suzerain of +Chaluz, claimed treasure-trove in it. 'Then I will have the +Viscount of Limoges as well,' said Richard. 'Let him be sent to me, +and the table with him.'</p> +<p>The Viscount did not go. 'We have him, eh, we have him!' cheered +Saint-Pol, rubbing his hands together.</p> +<p>But the Viscount, 'Be not so very sure. He may send Gaston or +Mercadet. Or if the fit is on him he may come in force. We cannot +support that. I believe that you have played a fool's part, +Saint-Pol.'</p> +<p>'I am playing a gentleman's part,' replied the other, 'to entrap +a villain.'</p> +<p>'Your villain is six foot two inches, and hath arms to agree,' +said the Viscount, a dry man.</p> +<p>'We will lay him by the heels, Viscount; we will lop those long +arms, cold-blooded, desperate tyrant. He has brought two lovely +ladies to misery. Now let him know misery.' Thus Saint-Pol, feeling +very sure of himself.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The Queen was at Cahors all this time, living in a convent of +white nuns, probably happier than she had ever been in her life +before. Count John kept her informed of all Richard's offences; +Saint-Pol, you may take my word for it, was so exuberantly on her +side that it must be almost an offence in her to refuse him. But +she, in a pure mood of abnegation, would hear nothing against King +Richard. Even when she was told, with proof positive, that he was +in treaty with Rome, she said not a word to her friends. Secretly +she hugged herself, beginning (like most women) to find pleasure in +pain. 'Let him deny me, let him deny me thrice, even as Thou wert +denied, sweet Lord Jesus!' she prayed to Christ on the wall. 'So +denied, Thou didst not cease from loving. I think the woman in Thee +outcried the man.' She got a piercing bliss out of each new knife +stuck in her little jumping heart. Once or twice she wrote to Alois +of France, who was at Fontevrault, in her King's country. 'Dear +lady,' she wrote, 'they seek to enrage my lord against me. If you +see him, tell him that I believe nothing that I hear until I +receive the word from his own glorious mouth.' Alois, chilly in her +cell, took no steps to get speech with King Richard. 'Let her +suffer: I suffer,' she would say. And then, curiously jealous lest +more pain should be Berengère's than was hers, a daughter's +of France, she made haste to send assuring messages to Cahors. +Still Berengère sweetly agonised. Saint-Pol sent her letters +full of love and duty, enthusiastic, breathing full arms against +her wrongs. But she always replied, 'Count of Saint-Pol, you do me +injury in seeking to redress your own. I admit nothing against my +lord the King. Many hate him, but I love him. My will is to be +meek. Meekness would become you very well also.' Saint-Pol could +not think so.</p> +<p>Lastly came the intelligence that King Richard in person was +moving south with a great force to win the treasure of Chaluz. The +news was true. Not only did he dwell with the nervous persistency +of the afflicted upon the wretched gold Cæsar, but with +clearer political vision saw a chance of subduing all Aquitaine. +'Any stick will do, even Adhémar of Limoges,' he said, not +suspecting Saint-Pol's finger in the dish; and told Mercadet to +summon the knights, and the knights their array. Before he set out +he sent two messengers more—one to Rome, and one much further +east. Then he began his warlike preparations with great heart.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVb" id="CHAPTER_XVb"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>OECONOMIC REFLECTIONS OF THE OLD MAN OF MUSSE</h3> +<p>Jehane, called Gulzareen, the Golden Rose, had borne three +children to the Old Man of Musse. She was suckling the third, and +teaching her eldest, the young Fulke of Anjou, his Creed, or as +much of it as she could remember, when there came up a herald from +Tortosa who bore upon his tabard the three leopards of England. He +delivered a sealed letter thus superscribed—</p> +<p>'La très-haulte et ma très chère dame, +Madame Jehane, Comtesse d'Anjou, de la part le Roy Richard. Hastez +tousjours.'</p> +<p>The letter was brought to the Old Man as he sat in his white +hail among his mutes.</p> +<p>'Fulness of Light,' said the Vizier, after prostrations, 'here +is come a letter from the Melek Richard, sealed, for her Highness +the Golden Rose.'</p> +<p>'Give it to me, Vizier,' said the Old Man, and broke the seal, +and read—</p> +<p>'Madame, most dear lady, in a very little while I shall be free +from my desperate nets; and then you shall be freed from yours. +Keep a great heart. After five years of endeavour at last I come +quickly.—Richard of Anjou.'</p> +<p>The Old Man sat stroking his fine beard for some time after he +had dismissed his Vizier. Looking straight before him down the +length of his hail, no sound broke the immense quiet under which he +accomplished his meditations of life and death. The Assassins +dreaming by the walls breathed freely through their noses.</p> +<p>As a small voice heard from far off in these dreams of theirs, +the voice of one calling from a distant height, came his words, +'Cogia ibn Hassan ibn Alnouk, come and hearken.' A slim young man +rose, ran forward and fell upon his face before the throne. Once +more the faint far cry came floating, 'Bohadin son of Falmy of +Balsora, come and hearken'; and another white-robed youth followed +Cogia.</p> +<p>'My sons,' said the Old Man, 'the word is upon you. Go to the +West for forty days. In the country of the Franks, in the south +parts thereof, but north of the great mountains, you shall find the +Melek Richard, admirable man, whom Allah longs for. Strike, my +sons, but from afar (for not otherwise shall ye dare him), and gain +the gates of Paradise and the soft-bosomed women of your dreams. Go +quickly, prepare yourselves.' The two young men crawled to kiss his +foot; then they went out, and silence folded the hail of audience +once more like a wrapping.</p> +<p>Later in the day a slave-girl told Jehane that her master was +waiting for her. The baby was asleep in the cradle under a muslin +veil; she kissed Fulke, a fine tall boy, six and a half years old, +and followed the messenger.</p> +<p>The Old Man embraced her very affectionately, kissed her +forehead and raised her from her knees. 'Come and sit with me, +beautiful and pious wife, mother of my sons,' said he. 'I have many +things to say to you.'</p> +<p>When they were close together on the cushions of the window, +Sinan put his arm round her waist, and said, 'For a good and happy +marriage, my Gulzareen, it is well that the woman should not love +her husband too much, but rather be meek, show obedience to his +desires, and alacrity, and give courtesy. The man must love her, +and honour that in her which makes her worth, her beauty, to wit, +the bounty of her fruitfulness, and her discretion. But for her it +is enough that she suffer herself to be loved, and give him her +duty in return. The love that seeds in her she shall bestow upon +her children. That is how peace of mind grows in the world, and +happiness, for without the first there can never be the second. +You, my child, have a peaceful mind: is it not so?'</p> +<p>'My lord,' Jehane replied, with no sign of the old discontent +upon her red mouth, 'I am at peace. For I have your affection; you +tell me that I deserve it. And I give my children love.'</p> +<p>'And you are happy, Jehane?'</p> +<p>She sighed, ever so lightly. 'I should be happy, my lord. But +sometimes, even now, I think of King Richard, and pray for +him.'</p> +<p>'I believe that you do,' said the Old Man. 'And because I desire +your happiness in all things, I desire you to see him again.'</p> +<p>A bright blush flooded Jehane, whose breath also became a +trouble. By a quick movement she drew her veil about her, lest he +should see her unquiet breast. So the mother of Proserpine might +have been startled into new maidenhood when, in her wanderings, +some herd had claimed her in love. Her husband watched her keenly, +not unkindly. Jehane's trouble increased; he left her alone to +fight it. So at last she did; then touched his hand, looking deeply +into his face. He, loving her greatly, held her close.</p> +<p>'Well, Joy of my Joy?'</p> +<p>'Lord,' she said, speaking hurriedly and low, 'let me not see +him, ask it not of me. It is more than I dare. It is more than +would be right; I ask it for his sake, not for mine. For he has a +great heart, the greatest heart that ever man had in the world; +also he is sudden to change, as I know very well; and the sight of +me denied him might move him to a desperate act, as once before it +did.' She lowered her head lest he should see all she had to show. +He smiled gravely, stroking her hand and playing with it, up and +down.</p> +<p>'No, child, no,' he said, 'it will do you no harm now. The harm, +I take it, has been done: soon it will be ended. You shall hear +from his own lips that he will not hurt you.'</p> +<p>Jehane looked at him in wonder, startled out of confusion of +face.</p> +<p>'Do you know more of him than I do, sire?' she asked, with a +quick heart.</p> +<p>'I believe that I do,' replied the Old Man; 'and take my word +for it, dear child, that I wish him no ill. I wish him,' he +continued very deliberately, 'less ill than he has sought to do +himself. I wish him most heartily well. And you, my girl, whom I +have grown wisely and tenderly to love; you, my Golden Rose, Moon +of the Caliph, my stem, my vine, my holy vase, my garden of endless +delight—for you I wish, above all things, rest after labour, +refreshment and peace. Well, I believe that I shall gain them for +you. Go, therefore, since I bid you, and take with you your son +Fulke, that his father may see and bless him, and (if he think fit) +provide for him after the custom of his own country. And when you +have learned, as learn you will, from his mouth what I am sure he +will tell you, come back to me, my Pleasant Joy, and rest upon my +heart.'</p> +<p>Jehane sighed, and wrought with her fingers in her lap. 'If it +must be, sire—'</p> +<p>'Why, of course it must be,' said the Old Man briskly.</p> +<p>He sent her away to the harem with a kiss on her mouth, and had +in Cogia, and Bohadin son of Falmy of Balsora. To these two rapt +Assassins he gave careful instructions, which there was no +mistaking. The Golden Rose, properly attended, would accompany them +as far as Marseilles. She would journey on to Pampluna and abide in +the court of the King of Navarre (who loved Arabians, as his father +before him) until such time as word was brought her by one of them, +the survivor, that they had found King Richard, and that he would +see her. Then she would set out, attended by the Vizier, the chief +of the eunuchs, and the Mother of Flowers, and act as she saw +proper.</p> +<p>Very soon after this the galley left the marble quay of Tortosa +upon a prosperous voyage through blue water. Jehane, her son Fulke +of Anjou, and the other persons named, were in a great green +pavilion on the poop. But she saw nothing, and knew nothing, of +Cogia ibn Hassan ibn Alnouk or of Bohadin son of Falmy of +Balsora.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIb" id="CHAPTER_XVIb"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>THE CHAPTER CALLED CHALUZ</h3> +<p>When King Richard said, without any confirmatory oath, that he +should hang Adhémar of Limoges and the Count of Saint-Pol, +all who heard him believed it. The Abbot Milo believed it for one. +Figuratively, you can see his hands up as you read him. 'To hang +two knights of such eminent degree and parts,' he writes, 'were +surely a great scandal in any Christian king. Not that the +punishment were undeserved or the executioner insufficient, God +knoweth! But very often true policy points out the wisdom of the +mean; and this is its deliberative, that to hang a bad man when +another vengeance is open—such as burning in his castle, +killing on his walls, or stabbing by apparent mistake for a common +person—to hang him, I say, suggests to the yet unhanged a way +of treating his betters. There are more ways of killing a dog than +choking him with butter; and so it is with lords and other rebels +against kings. In this particular case King Richard only thought to +follow his great father (whom at this time he much resembled): what +in the end he did was very different from any act of that monarch's +that I ever heard tell of, to remember which makes me weep tears of +blood. But so he fully purposed at that time, being in his hottest +temper of Yea.'</p> +<p>He said Yea to the hanging of Saint-Pol and Limoges, and made +ready a host which must infallibly crush Chaluz were it twenty +times prepared. But he said Nay to the sacrifice of Jehane on +Lebanon, and to that end increased his arms to overawe all the +kingdoms of the South which had sanctioned it. Vanguard, battle and +rear, he mustered fifteen thousand men. Des Barres led the van, +English bowmen, Norman knights. Battle was his, all arms from +Anjou, Poictou, and Touraine. Rearguard the Earl of Leicester took, +his viceroy in Aquitaine. When the garrison of Chaluz saw the +forested spears on the northern heights, the great engines piled +against the sky-line, the train of followers, pennons of the +knights, Dragon of England, Leopards of Anjou, the single Lion of +Normandy, the wise among them were for instant surrender.</p> +<p>'Here is an empery come out against us!' cried Adhémar. +'If I was not right when I told you that I knew King Richard.'</p> +<p>'The filched empery of a thief,' said Saint-Pol. 'Honesty is +ours. I fight for my lady Berengère, the glory of two +realms, my sovereign mistress till I die.'</p> +<p>'Vastly well,' returned the other; 'but I do not fight for this +lady, but for a gold table with gold dolls sitting at it.' Such +also was the reflection of Achard, castellan of Chaluz, looking +ruefully at his crazy walls.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Two grassy hills rise, like breasts, out of a rolling plain of +grass. Each is crowned with a tower; between them are the church +and village of Chaluz, which form a straggling street. Wall and +ditch pen in these buildings and tie tower to tower: as Richard +saw, it was the easiest thing in the world to cut the line in the +middle, isolate, then reduce the towers at leisure. Adhémar +saw that too, and got no comfort from it, until it occurred to him +that if he occupied one tower and left the other to Saint-Pol, he +would be free to act at his own discretion, that is, not act at all +against the massed power of England and Anjou. Saint-Pol, you see, +fought for the life of Richard, and Adhémar for a gold +table, which makes a great difference. He effected this separation +of garrisons; however, some show of resistance was made by manning +the walls and daring the day with banners.</p> +<p>King Richard went softly to work, as he always ways did when +actually hand in hand with war. Warfare was an art to him, neither +a sport nor a counter-irritant; he was never impetuous over it. For +a week he satisfied himself with a close investiture of the town on +all sides. No supplies could get in nor fugitives out. Then, when +everything was according to his liking, he advanced his engines, +brought forward his towers, set sappers to work, and delivered +assault in due form and at the weakest point. He succeeded +exquisitely. There was no real defence. The two hill-towers were +stranded, Chaluz was his.</p> +<p>He put the garrison to the sword, and set the village on fire. +At once Viscount Adhémar and his men surrendered. Richard +took the treasure—it was found that the golden Cæesar +had no head—and kept his word with the finders, hanging the +Viscount and castellan on one gibbet within sight of the other +tower. 'Oh, frozen villain,' swore Saint-Pol between his teeth, 'so +shalt thou never hang me.' But when he looked about him at his +dozen of thin-faced men he believed that if Richard was not to hang +him it might be necessary for him to hang himself. More, it came +into his mind that there was a hand or two under him which might be +anxious to save him the trouble. Being, however, a man of abundant +spirit, he laughed at the summons to surrender so long as there was +a horse to eat, man to shoot, or arrow for the shooting. As for +fire, he believed himself impregnable by that arm; and any day +succour might come from the South. Surely his Queen would not throw +him to the dogs! Where was Count John if not hastening to win a +realm; where King Philip if not hopeful to chastise a vassal? Daily +King Richard, in no hurry, but desperately reckless, rode close to +the tower and met the hardy eyes of Saint-Pol watching him from the +top. Richard was a galliard fighter, as he had always been.</p> +<p>'Come down, Saint-Pol,' he would say, 'and dance with +Limoges.'</p> +<p>'When I come down, sire,' the answer would be, 'there will be no +dancing in your host.'</p> +<p>Richard took his time, and also intolerable liberties with his +life. Milo lost his hair with anxiety, not daring to speak; Gaston +of Béarn did dare, but was shaken off by his mad master. Des +Barres, who loved him, perhaps, as well as any, never left him for +long together, and wore his brain out devising shifts which might +keep him away from the walls. But Richard, for this present whim of +his, chose out a companion devil as heedless as himself, Mercadet +namely, his brown Gascon captain, of like proportions, like mettle, +like foolhardiness; and with him made the daily round, never +omitting an exchange of grim banter with Saint-Pol. It was terrible +to see him, without helm on his head, or reason in it, canter +within range of the bow.</p> +<p>'Oh, Saint-Pol,' he said one day, 'if thou wert worth my pains, +I would have thee down and serve thee as I did thy brother Eudo. +But no; thou must be hanged, it seems.' And Saint-Pol, grinning +cheerfully, answered, 'Have no fear, King, thou wilt never hang +me.'</p> +<p>'By my soul,' said Richard back again, 'a little more of this +bold gut of thine, my man, and I let thee go free.'</p> +<p>'Sire,' said Saint-Pol soberly, 'that were the worst of +all.'</p> +<p>'How so, boy?'</p> +<p>'Because, if you forgave me, I should be required by my +knighthood to forgive you; and that I will never do if I can help +it. So I should live and be damned.'</p> +<p>'Have it then as it must be,' said Richard laughing, and turned +his back. Saint-Pol could have shot him dead, but would not. 'Look, +De Gurdun,' he says, 'there goes the King unmailed. Wilt thou shoot +him in the back, and so end all?'</p> +<p>'By God, Eustace,' says Gilles, 'that I will not.'</p> +<p>'Why not, then?'</p> +<p>Gurdun said, 'Because I dare not. I am more afraid of him when +he scorns me thus than when his face is upon me. Let him lead an +assault upon the walls, and I will split his headpiece if I may; +but I will never again try him unarmed.'</p> +<p>'Pouf!' said Saint-Pol; but he was of the same mind.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Then came a day when Des Barres was out upon the neighbouring +hills with a company of knights, scouting. There had been rumours +of hostile movement from the South, from Provence and Roussillon; +of a juncture of Prince John, known to be in Gascony, with the +Queen's brother of Navarre. Nothing was known certainly, but +Richard judged that John might be tempted out. It was a bright cold +day, cloudless, with a most bitter north-east wind singing in the +bents. Des Barres, sitting his horse on the hill, blew upon his +ungauntleted hand, then flacked it against his side to drive the +blood back. Surveying the field with a hunter's eye, he saw King +Richard ride out of the lines on his chestnut horse, Mercadet with +him, and (in a green cloak) Gaston of Béarn. Richard had a +red surcoat and a blown red plume in his cap. He carried no shield, +and by the ease with which he turned his body to look behind him, +one hand on the crupper, Des Barres was sure that he was not in +mail.</p> +<p>'Folly of a fool!' he snorted to his neighbour, Savaric de +Dreux: 'there pricks our lord the King, as if to a party of +hawks.'</p> +<p>'Wait,' said Savaric. 'Where away now?</p> +<p>'To bandy gibes with Saint-Pol, pardieu. Where else should he go +at this hour?'</p> +<p>'Saint-Pol will never do him a villainy,' said Savaric.</p> +<p>'No, no. But De Gurdun is there.'</p> +<p>'Wait now,' says Savaric again. 'Look, look! Who comes out of +the smoke?'</p> +<p>They could see the beleaguered tower perfectly, brown and +warm-looking in the sun; below it, still smoking, the village of +Chaluz, a heap of charred brickwork. They saw a man in clean white +come creeping out of the smoke, stooping at a run. He hid wherever +he could behind the broken wall, but always ran nearer, stooped and +ran with bent body over his bent knees. He worked his way thus, +gradually nearer and nearer to the tower; and Des Barres watched +him anxiously.</p> +<p>'Some camp-thief making off—'</p> +<p>'Look, look!' cried Savaric. The white man had come out by the +tower, was now kneeling in the open; at the same moment a man +slipped down a rope from the tower-top. Before he had touched earth +they saw the kneeling man pull a bowstring to his ear and let fly. +Next the fellow on the rope, touching ground, ran fleetly forward +and, springing on the white-robed man, drove him to the earth. They +saw the flash of a blade.</p> +<p>'That is strange warfare,' said Des Barres, greatly +interested.</p> +<p>'There is warfare in heaven also,' said Savaric. 'See those two +eagles.' Two great birds were battling in the cold blue. Feathers +fell idly, like black snow-flakes; then one of the eagles heeled +over, and down he came.</p> +<p>But when they looked towards the tower again they saw a great +commotion. Men running, horses huddled together, one in red held up +by one in green. Then a riderless chestnut horse looked about him +and neighed. Des Barres gave a short cry. 'O God! They have shot +King Richard between them. Come, Savaric, we must go down.'</p> +<p>'Stop again,' said that other. 'Let us sweep up those assassins +as we go. There I see another thief in white.' Des Barres saw him +too. 'Spur, spur!' he called to his knights; 'follow me.' He got +his line in motion, they all galloped across the sunny slopes like +a light cloud. But as they drove forward the play was in progress; +they saw it done, as it were, in a scene. One white figure lay +heaped upon the ground, another was running by the wall towards +him, furtively and bent, as the first had come. The third actor, he +of the tower, had not heard the runner, but was still stooped over +the man he had evidently killed, groping probably for marks or +papers upon him.</p> +<p>'Spur, spur!' cried Des Barres, and the line went rattling down. +They were not in time. The white runner was too quick for the +killer of his mate: he did, indeed, look round; but the other was +upon him before he could rise. There was a short tussle; the two +rolled over and over. Then the white-clad man got up, raised his +fallen comrade, shouldered him, and sped away into the smoke of +Chaluz. When Des Barres and his friends were within bowshot of the +tower one man only was below it; and he lay where he had been +stabbed. The white-robed murderers, the living and the dead, were +lost in smoke. The King and his party were gone. Out of the tower +came Saint-Pol with his men, unarmed, bareheaded, and waited +silently in rank for Des Barres.</p> +<p>This one came up at a gallop. 'My prisoner, Count of Saint-Pol,' +he called out as he came; then halted his line by throwing up his +hand.</p> +<p>'The King has been shot, Sir Guilhem,' Saint-Pol said gravely; +'not by me. I am the King's prisoner. Take me to him, lest he die +before I see his eyes.'</p> +<p>'Who is that dead man of yours over there?' asked Des +Barres.</p> +<p>'His name is Sieur Gilles de Gurdun, a knight of Normandy and +enemy of the King's, but dead (if dead he be) on the King's +account. He killed the assassin.'</p> +<p>'I know that very well,' says Des Barres, 'for I saw the deed, +which was a good one. I must hunt for those white-gowns. Who might +they be?'</p> +<p>'I know nothing of them. They are no men of mine. Their robes +were all white, their faces all dark, and they ran like Turks. But +what can Turks do here?'</p> +<p>'They must be found,' said Des Barres, and sent out Savaric with +half of his men.</p> +<p>They picked up Gilles, quite dead of two wounds, one in the back +of the neck, another below the heart. Des Barres put him over his +saddlebow; then took his prisoners into camp.</p> +<p>King Richard had been carried to his pavilion and put to bed. +His physicians were with him, and the Abbot Milo, quite unmanned. +Gaston of Béarn was crying like a girl at the door. The Earl +of Leicester had ridden off for the Queen, Yvo Tibetot for the +Count of Mortain. Des Barres learned that they had pulled out the +arrow, a common one of Genoese make, but feared poison. King +Richard had been shot in the right lung.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIIb" id="CHAPTER_XVIIb"></a>CHAPTER +XVII</h2> +<h3>THE KEENING</h3> +<p>In the wan hours left to him came three women, one after +another, and spoke the truth so far as they knew it each.</p> +<p>The first was Alois of France in the habit of a grey lady of +Fontevrault, with a face more dead than her cowl, and hair like wet +weed, but in her hollow eyes the fire of her mystery; who said to +the watchers by the door: 'Let me in. I am the voice of old +sorrow.' So they held back the curtains of the tent, and she came +shuffling forward to the long body on the bed. At the sound of her +skirts the King turned his altered face her way, then rolled his +head back to the dark.</p> +<p>'Take her away,' he said in a whisper; so Des Barres stood up +between him and the woman.</p> +<p>But Alois put her hands out, as a blind man does.</p> +<p>'Soul's health, Des Barres; I purge old sins. Avoid, all of +you,' she said, 'and leave me with him. Save only his confessor. +What I have to say must be said in secret, as it was done +secretly.'</p> +<p>Richard sighed. 'Let her stay; and let Milo stay,' he said. The +rest went out on tip-toe. Alois came and knelt at the head of the +bed.</p> +<p>'Listen now, Richard,' said she; 'for thy last hour is near, and +mine also. Twice over I have sought to tell thee, but was denied. +Each time I might have done thee a service; now I will do thee good +service. Thou art not guilty of thy father's death, nor he of my +despair.'</p> +<p>The King did not turn his head, but looked up sideways, so that +she saw his eye shining. His lips moved, then stuck together; so +Milo put a sponge with wine upon them. Then he whispered, 'Tell me, +Alois, who was guilty with thee?'</p> +<p>She said, 'Thy brother John of Mortain was that man. A villain +is he.'</p> +<p>A moaning sigh escaped the King, long-drawn, shuddering, very +piteous. 'Eh, Alois, Alois! Which of us four was not a +villain?'</p> +<p>Said Alois, 'What is past is past, and I have told thee. What is +to come I cannot tell thee, for the past swallows me up. Yet I say +again, thy brother John is a sick villain, a secret villain, and a +thief.'</p> +<p>'God help him, God judge him,' said Richard with another sigh. +'I can do neither, nor will not.' He moaned again, but so +hopelessly, as being so weary and fordone, that Abbot Milo began to +blubber out loud. Alois lifted up her drawn face, and struck her +breast.</p> +<p>'Ah, would to God, Richard,' she cried, 'would to God I had come +to thee clean! I had saved thee then from this most bitter death. +For if I love thee now, judge how I had loved thee then.'</p> +<p>He said, with shut eyes, 'None could love me long, since none +could trust me, and not I myself.' Then he said fretfully to the +abbot, 'Take her away, Milo; I am tired.'</p> +<p>Alois, kneeling, kissed his dry forehead. 'Farewell,' she said, +'King Richard, most a king when most in bonds, and most merciful +when most in need of mercy. My work is done. Remains to pray and +prepare.' She went out noiselessly, as she had come in, and no man +of them saw her again.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Next came Queen Berengère, about the time of sunset. She +came stiffly, as if holding herself in a trap, with much formal +bowing to Death; quite white, like ivory, in a black robe; in her +hands a great crucifix. At the door she paused for a minute, the +Earl of Leicester being with her.</p> +<p>'Grief is quick in me, Leicester,' she said; then to the ushers +of the door, 'Does he live? Will he know me? Does he wake? Does he +not cry for me now?'</p> +<p>'Madame, the King sleeps,' they told her.</p> +<p>'I go to pray for him,' said the Queen, and went in.</p> +<p>Stiffly she knelt at his bedhead, and with both hands held up +the crucifix to her face. She began to talk to it in a low worn +voice, as though she were asking the Christ to reckon her +misery.</p> +<p>'Thou Christ,' she complained, 'Thou Christ, look upon me, the +daughter of a king, crucified terribly with Thee. This dying man is +the King my husband, who denied me as Thou, Christ, wert denied; +who sought to put me by, and yet is loved. Yet I love him, Christ; +yet I have worked for him against my honour, holding it as cheap as +he did. When he was in prison I humbled myself to set him loose; +when he was loosed I held his enemies back, while he, cruelly, held +me back. I have prayed for him, and pray now, while he lies there, +struck secretly, and dies not knowing me; and leaves me alone, +careless whether I live or die. Ah, Saviour of the world, do I +suffer or not?'</p> +<p>She awoke the sick man, who opened his eyes and stared about +him. He signed to Milo to draw nigh, which the snuffling old man +did.</p> +<p>'Who is here?' he whispered. 'Not—?'</p> +<p>'No, no, dearest lord,' said Milo quickly. 'But the Queen is +here.'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said he, 'poor wretch!' And he sighed. Then he said, 'Turn +me over, Milo.' It was done, with a flux of blood to the mouth. +They stayed that and brought him round with aqua vitæ.</p> +<p>The Queen was terribly moved to see his ravaged face. No doubt +she loved him. But she had nothing to say. For some time their eyes +were fixed, each on the other; the Queen's misty, the King's +fever-bright, terribly searching, terribly intelligent. He read her +soul.</p> +<p>'Madame,' he said, but she could scarcely hear him, 'I have done +you great wrong, yet greater wrong elsewhere. I cannot die in +comfort without your pardon; but I cannot ask it of you, for if I +still had years to live, I should do as I have done.' A sob of +injury shook the Queen.</p> +<p>'Richard! Richard! Richard!' she wailed, 'I suffer! You have my +heart; you have always had it. And what have I? Nothing, O God! +Nothing at all.'</p> +<p>'Madame,' said he, 'the wrong I did you was that I gave you the +right to anything. That was the first and greatest wrong. To give +it you I thieved, and in taking it again I thieved again. God +knoweth—' He shut his eyes, and kept them shut. She called to +him more urgently, 'Richard, Richard!' but he made no answer, and +appeared to sleep. The Queen shivered and sniffed, turned to her +Christ, and so spent the night.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The last to come was Jehane in a white gown; and she came with +the dawn. Eager and flushed she was, with dawn-colour in her face; +and stepped lightly over the dewy grass, her lips parted and hair +blown back. She came in exalted with grief, so that no wardens of +the door, nor queens, nor college of queens, could have stayed her. +She was as tall as any there, and went past the guard at the door +without question or word said, and so lightly and fiercely to the +bed. There she stood, dilating and glowing, looking not back on her +spent life, but on to the glory of the dying.</p> +<p>The Queen knew that she was there, but went on with her prayers, +or seemed to go on. Jehane knelt suddenly, put her arms out over +Richard, stooped and kissed his cheek. Then she looked up, +desperately triumphing, for any one to question her right. None +did. Berengère prayed incessantly, and Jehane panted. The +words broke from her at last. 'Dost thou question my right, +Berengère,' she said fiercely, 'to kiss a dead man, to love +the dead and speak greatly of the dead? Which of us three women, +thinkest thou, knoweth best what report to make concerning this +beloved, thou, or Alois, or I? Alois came, speaking of old sins; +and you are here, plaining of new sins: what shall I do, now I am +here? Am I to speak of sin to come? Thou dear knight,' and she +touched his head, 'there is no more room for thy great sins, alas! +But I think thou shalt leave behind thee some spark of a fire.' She +looked again at Berengère, who saw the glint of her green +eyes and the old proud discontent twisting her lip, but did +nothing. 'Look, Berengère,' said Jehane, 'I speak as mother +of his child Fulke of Anjou. I had rather my son Fulke sinned as +his fathers have sinned, so that he sinned greatly like them, than +that he should grow pale, scheming safety in a cloister, and make +the Man in our Saviour ashamed of His choice. I had rather the bad +blood stay, so it stay great blood, than that it should be thin +like thine. What is there to fear, girl? A sword? I have had a +sword in my heart eight years, and made no sound. Let the son +pierce what the father pierced before. I am a lover, saying not to +my beloved, "Stroke my heart, dearest lord"; but instead, "Stab if +thou wilt, my King, and let me bleed for thee." So I have bled, +sweet Lord Jesus, and so shall bleed again!' She stooped and kissed +his head, saying, 'Amen. Let the poor bleed if the King ask.' The +Queen went on praying; but Richard opened his eyes without start or +quiver, looked at Jehane leaning over him, and smiled.</p> +<p>'Well, my girl, well,' he said, 'thou art in good time. What of +the lad?'</p> +<p>'He is here, Richard.'</p> +<p>'Bring him to me,' says the King. So Des Barres stole out to the +Moslems at the door, and came back leading Fulke by the hand, a +slim, tall boy, fair-haired, and frank in the face, with his +father's delicate mouth and bold grey eyes. Jehane turned to take +him.</p> +<p>'This is thy father, boy.'</p> +<p>'I know it, ma'am,' says young Fulke, and knelt down by the bed. +King Richard put his hand on his head.</p> +<p>'What a rough pelt, Fulke,' he says, 'like thy father's. God +send thee a better inside to it, my boy. God make a man of +thee.'</p> +<p>'He will never make me a great king, sire,' says Fulke.</p> +<p>'He can make thee better than that,' said his father.</p> +<p>'I think not,' answered Fulke. 'You are the greatest king in the +whole world, sire. The Old Man of Musse said it.'</p> +<p>'Kiss me, Fulke,' said Richard. The boy put his face up quickly +and kissed his father's lips. 'What a lover!' the King laughed; and +Jehane said, 'He always kisses on the lips.' Richard sighed, +suddenly tired; Fulke looked about, frightened at all the +solemnity, and took his mother's hand. She gave him over to Des +Barres, who led him away.</p> +<p>The King signed to Jehane to bend down her head. So she did, and +even thus could barely hear him.</p> +<p>'I must die in peace if I can, sweet soul,' he muttered. They +all saw that the end was not far off. 'Tell me what will become of +thee when I am gone.' She stroked his cheek.</p> +<p>'I shall go back to my husband and children, dear one. I have +left three behind me, all sons.'</p> +<p>'Are they good to thee? Art thou happy?'</p> +<p>'I am at peace with myself, wife of a wise old man; I love my +children, and have the memory of thee, Richard. These will suffice +me.'</p> +<p>'There is one more thing for thee to give me, my Jehane.' She +smiled pityingly.</p> +<p>'Why, what is left to give, Richard?' He said in her ear, 'Our +boy Fulke.'</p> +<p>'Ah,' said Jehane. The Queen was now watching her intently +between her hands.</p> +<p>'Jehane, Jehane,' said King Richard, sweating with the effort to +be heard, 'all our life together thou hast been giving and I +spending, thou miser that I might play the prodigal. For the last +time I ask of thee: deny me not. Wilt thou stay here with Fulke our +son?'</p> +<p>Jehane could not speak; she shook her head, and showed him her +eyes all blind with tears. The tears came freely, from more eyes +than hers. Richard's head dropped back, and for a full minute they +thought him gone. But no. He opened his eyes again and moved his +lips. They strained to hear him. 'The sponge, the sponge,' he said: +then, 'Bring me in Saint-Pol.' The cold light began to steal in +through the crannies of the tent.</p> +<p>The young man was brought in by Des Barres, in chains. Jehane, +now behind Richard's head, lifted him up in her arms.</p> +<p>'Knock off those fetters,' says the King. Saint-Pol was +free.</p> +<p>'Eustace,' says Richard, 'you and I have bandied hard words +enough, and blows enough. My chains will be off before sunrise, and +yours are off already. Answer me, is Gurdun dead?'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol dropped to his knees. 'Oh, my lord, he died where he +fell. But as God knows, he had no hand in this, nor had I.'</p> +<p>'If I know it, I suppose God knows it too,' said Richard, +smiling rather thinly. 'Now, Eustace, I have a word to say. I have +done much against your name; to your brother because he spoke +against a great lady and ill of my house; to your sister here, +because I loved her not well enough and myself too well. Eustace, +you shall kiss her before I go.'</p> +<p>Saint-Pol got up and went to her. Brother and sister kissed each +other above the King's head. Then said Richard, 'Now I will tell +you that I had nothing to do with the death of your cousin +Montferrat.'</p> +<p>'Oh, sire! oh, sire!' cried Saint-Pol; but Jehane looked at her +brother.</p> +<p>'I had to do with that, Eustace,' she said. 'He laid the death +of the King, and I laid his death at the price of my marriage. He +deserved it.'</p> +<p>'Sister,' said Saint-Pol, 'he did deserve it; and I deserve what +he had. Oh, sire,' he urged with tears, 'take my life, as your +right is, but forgive me first.'</p> +<p>'What have I to forgive you, brother?' said Richard. 'Come, kiss +me. We were good friends in the old days.' Saint-Pol, with tears, +kissed him. Richard sat up.</p> +<p>'I require you now, Saint-Pol and Des Barres, that between you +you defend my son Fulke. Milo has the deeds of his lands of Cuigny. +Bring him up a good knight, and let him think gentlier of his +father than that father ever did of his. Will you do this? Make +haste, make haste!'</p> +<p>The Queen broke in with a cry. 'Oh, sire! oh, sire! Is there +nothing for me? Madame!' she turned to Jehane and held her fast by +the knees, 'have pity, spare me a little, a very little work! O +Christ! O Christ!'—she rocked herself about—'Can I do +nothing in the world for my King?'</p> +<p>Jehane stooped to take her up. 'Madame, watch over my little +Fulke, when his father is gone, and I am gone.' The Queen was +crying bitterly.</p> +<p>'I will never leave him if you will trust me,' she began to say. +Richard put his band out. 'Let it be so. My lords, serve the Queen +and me in this matter.' The two lords bowed their heads, and the +Queen tumbled to her sobbed prayers again.</p> +<p>The King's eyes were almost gone; certainly he could not see out +of them. They understood his moving lips, 'A sponge, quick.'</p> +<p>Jehane brought it and wiped his mouth; she could not see either +for tears. He gave a strong movement, wrenched his head up from her +arm, then gave a great gasp, 'Christ! I am done!' There followed on +this a rush of blood which made all hearts stand still. They wiped +it away. But Jehane saw that with that hot blood had gone his +spirit. She lifted high her head and let them read the truth from +her eyes. Then she put her lips upon his, and so stayed, and felt +him grow cold below her warmth. The fire was out.</p> +<p>They buried him at Fontevrault as he had directed, at the feet +of his father. King John was there with the peers of England, +Normandy, and Anjou. The Queen was there; but not Alois (unless +behind the grille), and not King Philip, because he hated King John +much worse than he ever hated Richard. And Jehane was not there, +nor Fulke of Anjou with his governors, because they had another +business to perform.</p> +<p>Not all of King Richard was buried there, where the great effigy +still marks the place of great dust. Jehane had his heart in a +casket, and with Fulke her son, Des Barres, her brother Saint-Pol, +Gaston of Béarn, and the Abbot Milo, took it to the church +of Rouen and saw it laid among the dead Dukes of Normandy; fitting +sepulture for a heart as bold as any of theirs, and capable of more +gentle music when the fine hand plucked the chords. After this +Jehane kissed Fulke and left him with the Queen, his uncle, and +Guilhem des Barres. Then she went back to her ship.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the white palace in the green valley of Lebanon the Old Man +of Musse embraced his wife. 'Moon of my soul, my Garden, my +Treasure-house!' he called her, and kissed her all over.</p> +<p>'The King died in peace, my lord,' she said, 'and I have peace +because of that.'</p> +<p>'Thy children shall call thee blessed, my beloved, as I call +thee.'</p> +<p>'The prophecy of the leper was not fulfilled, sir,' says +Jehane.</p> +<p>Ah,' replied the Old Man of Musse, all these things are in the +hands of the Supreme Disposer, Who with His forefinger points us +the determined road.'</p> +<p>Then Jehane went in to her children, and other duties which her +station required of her.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE_OF_THE_ABBOT_MILO" id= +"EPILOGUE_OF_THE_ABBOT_MILO"></a>EPILOGUE OF THE ABBOT MILO</h2> +<p>'When I consider,' writes the Abbot Milo on his last page, 'that +I have lived to see the deaths of three Kings of England, wearers +of the broom-switch, and of the manner of those deaths, I am led to +admire the wonderful ordering of Almighty God, Who accorded to each +of them an end illustrative of his doings in the world, and so +wrote, as it were, in blood for our learning. King Henry produced +strife, King Richard induced strife, and King John deduced it. King +Henry died cursing and accursed; King Richard forgiving and +forgiven; King John blaspheming, and not held worthy of reproof. +The first did evil, meaning evilly; the second evil, meaning well; +the third was evil. So the first was wretched in death, the second +pitiful, the third shameful. The first loved a few, the second +loved one, the third none. So the death of the first was gain to a +few, that of the second to one, that of the third to none; for he +that loves not, neither can he hate: he is negligible in the end. +But observe now, the chief woe of these kings of the House of Anjou +was that they hurt whom they loved more than whom they hated.</p> +<p>'King Henry was a great prince, who did evil to many both in his +life and death. My dear master, lord, and friend might have been a +greater, had not his head gone counter to his heart, his generosity +not been tripped up by his pride. So generous as he was, all the +world might have loved him, as one loved him; and yet so arrogant +of mind that the very largess he bestowed had a sting beneath it, +as though he scorned to give less to creatures that lacked so much. +All his faults and most of his griefs sprang from this rending +apart of his nature. His heart cried Yea! to a noble motion. Then +came his haughty head to suggest trickery, and bid him say Nay! to +the heart's urgency.</p> +<p>'He was a religious man, a pious man, the hottest fighter with +the coolest judgment of any I have ever known; a great lover of one +woman. He might have been a happy man if she had been let have her +way. But he thwarted her, he played with her whole-heart love, blew +hot and cold; neither let her alone nor clove to her through all. +So she had to pay. And of him, my friend and king howsoever, I say +from the bottom of my soul, if his death did not benefit poor +Jehane, then it is a happy thing for a woman to go bleeding in the +side. But I know that she was fortunate in his death, and believe +that he was also. For he had space for reparation, died with his +lovers about him, having been saved in time from a great disgrace. +And it is a very wise man who reports: <i>Illi Mors gravis incubat, +qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi</i>. But King Richard +knew himself in those last keen hours, and (as we believe) won +forgiveness of God.</p> +<p>'God be good to him where he is! They say that when he died, +that same day his soul was solved from purgatorial fires (by +reason, one may suppose, of his glorious captaincy of the armies of +the Cross), and he drawn up to heaven in a flamy cloud. I know +nothing certainly of this, which was not revealed to me; but my +prayer is that he may be now with Hannibal and Judas +Maccabæus and Charles the great Emperor; and by this time of +writing (if there be no offence in it) with Jehane to sit upon his +knee.</p> +<div class='center'>'UPON WHOSE TWO SOULS, JESU, HAVE MERCY!'</div> +<h3>EXPLICIT</h3> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14813 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |