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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life and Death of Richard Yea-and-Nay
+by Maurice Hewlett
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Life and Death of Richard Yea-and-Nay
+
+Author: Maurice Hewlett
+
+Release Date: January 26, 2005 [EBook #14813]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Rick Niles, Charlie Kirschner and the PG Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Ornate lettering/text The MM Co.]
+
+
+
+
+THE LIFE AND DEATH
+OF
+RICHARD YEA-AND-NAY
+
+BY
+MAURICE HEWLETT
+
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE FOREST LOVERS," "LITTLE NOVELS
+OF ITALY," ETC.
+
+
+Sì che a bene sperar mi era cagione
+Di quella fera alla gaietta pelle.
+_Inf._ i. 41.
+
+
+NEW YORK
+THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+LONDON; MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
+1901
+
+Set up and electrotyped October, 1900. Reprinted November,
+December, twice, 1900; January, February, twice, 1901
+
+Norwood Press
+J.B. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
+
+TO
+HIS FRIEND
+EDMUND GOSSE
+(ALWAYS BENEVOLENT TO HIS INVENTION)
+
+
+THIS CHRONICLE OF
+ANJOU AND A NOBLE LADY
+IS DEDICATED
+BY
+M.H.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+BOOK I--THE BOOK OF YEA
+
+EXORDIUM                                                      PAGE
+
+The Abbot Milo _urbi el orbi_, concerning the Nature of
+    the Leopard                                                  3
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Of Count Richard, and the Fires by Night                         5
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+How the Fair Jehane bestowed herself                            18
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+In what Harbour they found the Old Lion                         29
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+How Jehane stroked what Alois had made Fierce                   41
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+How Bertran de Born and Count Richard strove in a
+_Tenzon_                                                        56
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Fruits of the Tenzon: the Back of Saint-Pol, and the
+Front of Montferrat                                             69
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Of the Crackling of Thorns under Pots                           84
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+How they held Richard off from his Father's Throat              93
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Wild Work in the Church of Gisors                              102
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Night-work by the Dark Tower                                   111
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Of Prophecy; and Jehane in the Perilous Bed                    123
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+How they bayed the Old Lion                                    134
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+How they met at Fontevrault                                    145
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Of what King Richard said to the Bowing Rood; and
+what Jehane to King Richard                                    156
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Last _Tenzon_ of Bertran de Born                               168
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Conversation in England of Jehane the Fair                     179
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Frozen Heart and Red Heart: Cahors                             193
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BOOK II--THE BOOK OF NAY
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+The Chapter called Mate-Grifon                                 209
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Of what Jehane looked for, and what Berengère had              220
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Who Fought at Acre                                             235
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+Concerning the Tower of Flies, Saint-Pol, and the Marquess
+of Montferrat                                                  248
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+The Chapter of Forbidding: how De Gurdun looked,
+and King Richard hid his Face                                  262
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+The Chapter called Clytemnestra                                282
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+The Chapter of the Sacrifice on Lebanon; also called
+Cassandra                                                      293
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+Of the Going-up and Going-down of the Marquess                 302
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+How King Richard reaped what Jehane had sowed, and
+the Soldan was Gleaner                                         311
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+The Chapter called Bonds                                       327
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The Chapter called _A Latere_                                  338
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+The Chapter of Strife in the Dark                              350
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+Of the Love of Women                                           362
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+How the Leopard was loosed                                     369
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Oeconomic Reflections of the Old Man of Musse                  380
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+The Chapter called Chaluz                                      386
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+The Keening                                                    396
+
+EPILOGUE OF THE ABBOT MILO                                     408
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+THE BOOK OF YEA
+
+
+
+
+EXORDIUM
+
+THE ABBOT MILO _URBI ET ORBI_, CONCERNING THE NATURE OF THE LEOPARD
+
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+OF COUNT RICHARD, AND THE FIRES BY NIGHT
+
+
+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.
+
+'God pity the poor!' said Count Richard, and scourged forward.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+She looked at him, slow to answer, though the hand upon her bosom swayed
+up and down.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'Lord, lord, how shall I serve the cup and platter if you hold me so
+fast?'
+
+'Thou art my cup, thou art my supper.'
+
+'Thin fare, poor soul,' she said; but was glad of his foolishness.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'My lord loves not the French,' she said, 'but he loves honour. He is
+the King's son, loving his father.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'No,' said Jehane, ready for him; 'no, Richard, unless the people shall
+choose their own king.'
+
+'God chooses the king,' says Richard, 'or so we choose to believe.'
+
+'Then God must appoint the wife,' Jehane said, and tried to get free.
+But this could not be allowed, as she knew.
+
+She was gentle with him, reasoning. 'The King your father is an old man,
+Richard. Old men love their way.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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 _Sursum Corda_, 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?
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Never call me that,' he told her. 'Leave that to Bertran de Born, a
+fool's word to the fool who made it.'
+
+'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--
+
+     Al' entrada del tems clair, eya!
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!"'
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+HOW THE FAIR JEHANE BESTOWED HERSELF
+
+
+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 _introibo_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Well, my daughter?' says Milo.
+
+'I think it is well,' she took him up.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+He hoped to startle her, the old rhetorician; but he failed. Jehane was
+too dreary.
+
+'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.'
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+'What shall I do to be safe?' Her voice sounded worn.
+
+'Safe, my child?' He wondered. 'Bless me, is not the Cross safety?'
+
+'Not with him, father.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'I shall never choose a convent,' said Jehane.
+
+'I think,' said the abbot, 'that you are perfectly wise.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'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--'
+
+'He is glorious already,' said Jehane, wiping her eyes.
+
+'Keep him so, then,' said the abbot testily, who did not love to have
+his periods truncated.
+
+'If I go back to Saint-Pol,' said Jehane, 'I shall fall in with Gilles
+de Gurdun, who has sworn to have me.'
+
+'Well,' replied the abbot, 'why should he not? Does he receive the
+assurance of your brother the Count?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Hath he substance? Hath he lands? Is he noble, then, Jehane?'
+
+'He hath knighthood, a Church fief--oh, enough!'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+The Count of Saint-Pol swore a great oath.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'He went to the King of England at Louviers, and to the camp,' said
+Jehane. 'The King sent for him. I sent him not.'
+
+'Who is there beside the King of England?'
+
+'Madame Alois of France is there.'
+
+The Count of Saint-Pol put his tongue in his cheek.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'God help me, and him also,' she thought; 'it may be that I shall need
+him before long.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN WHAT HARBOUR THEY FOUND THE OLD LION
+
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'The powers of England, my lords,' he said, pointing with his hand. All
+stayed beside him. Gaston of Béarn tweaked his black beard.
+
+'Let us be done with the business, Richard,' said this knight, 'before
+the irons can get out.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+'What now, sir?' he said.
+
+'Later for me, sire, if kneeling is to be done by soldiers,' said
+Richard. The King controlled himself by swallowing.
+
+'And yet, Richard,' he said, dry as dust, 'And yet, Richard, you have
+knelt to the French lad soon enough.'
+
+'To my liege-lord, sire? Yes, it is true.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'No, sire,' said Richard, looking serenely down at the working face.
+
+'Nor ever will have,' snarled the King. 'Have you the Knight of Béarn?'
+
+'I have, sire.'
+
+'Ill company, Richard. It is a white-faced, lying beast, with a most
+goatish beard. Have you your singing monk?'
+
+'I have, sire.'
+
+'Shameful company. Have you Adhémar of Limoges?'
+
+'Yes, sire.'
+
+'Silly company. Leave him with his women. Have you your Abbot Milo?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'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.
+
+'Let us not quarrel, father,' he said; but that brought up the King's
+head, like a call to arms.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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?'
+
+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?'
+
+'Where else, my lord?' asked the son. The father looked at Alois.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'We hope, Richard, that you will teach Madame better things than that,'
+sniffed the old man, nosing about for battle.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'Brother, a word with you,' says he; and John came twittering back. The
+two were alone in the tent.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Willingly, dear brother, and the more so--' he began; but Richard cut
+him short.
+
+'What under the light of the sky is the matter with that lady?' he asked
+him.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+'A second father--a tender guardian--'
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+HOW JEHANE STROKED WHAT ALOIS HAD MADE FIERCE
+
+
+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.'
+
+'The name of your rat, Marquess! It is all I ask.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Oh, oh!' she said in a whisper, 'have you come to murder me, my lord?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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--
+
+'They seek to have you marry me?'
+
+He smiled: 'Our masters desire it, Madame.'
+
+'Are you very sure of that?'
+
+'I am here,' he explained, 'because I am so sure.'
+
+'And you desire--'
+
+'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.'
+
+'What is your promise?'
+
+'Madame,' said Richard, 'I bear the Cross on my shoulder, as you see.'
+
+'Why,' she said, fearfully regarding it, 'that is God's work!'
+
+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.
+
+'This poor lady,' he told himself, 'is possessed by a devil, therefore
+no wife for me, who have devil enough and to spare.'
+
+'What ails you, Madame?' he asked her. 'Tell me your grief, and upon my
+life I will amend it if I can.'
+
+'You cannot,' she said. 'Nothing can mend it.'
+
+'Then, with leave'--he went to the curtains--'I will call your Grace's
+people. Our discussions can be later; there is time enough.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+'_Mort de Dieu!_ 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.'
+
+'Saint-Pol,' he said immediately, 'I should like to speak with you. I
+owe you that.'
+
+'Your Grace's servant,' said Eudo, with a stiff reverence, 'when and
+where you will.'
+
+'Follow me,' said Richard, 'as soon as you have done with all this
+foppery.'
+
+In about an hour's time he was obeyed. After his fashion he took a
+straight plunge.
+
+'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.'
+
+The frankness of this lordly creature was unmistakable, even to
+Saint-Pol.
+
+'Hey, sire--,' he began spluttering, honesty in arms with rage. Richard
+took him up.
+
+'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?'
+
+Saint-Pol cursed his fate. Here he was, tied to the French girl.
+
+'My lord,' he said, 'I cannot obey you. My duty is to take Madame to
+Paris. That is my master's command.'
+
+'Well,' said Richard, 'then I shall go alone. Once more I shall go. I am
+sick to death of this business.'
+
+'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.
+
+'If I could do that, my friend,' he said, 'I should not suffer
+arbitration at all.'
+
+'The proposition was not mine, my lord,' urged Saint-Pol.
+
+'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.'
+
+'I believe that she is yours at this hour, sire.'
+
+'That is what I propose to find out,' said Richard. 'Enough. What news
+have they in Paris?'
+
+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.'
+
+'What is the stuff of the sirvente?'
+
+'It is a scandalous subject, sire. He calls it the Sirvente of Kings,
+and speaks much evil of your Order.' Richard laughed.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Ha, sire,' said Saint-Pol with meaning, 'he will tell you many things,
+some good, and some not so good.'
+
+'Be sure he will,' said Richard. 'That is Bertran's way.'
+
+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 _droit de seigneur_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Farewell, sir,' she said then; 'I will prepare for my lord.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Ha, beef,' said he, 'none pass here but the brave.'
+
+'Out, parrot,' quoth Gilles, and plunged through the wood.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Gilles, Gilles,' she said panting, 'do you love me, Gilles?'
+
+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!'
+
+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.'
+
+She stopped; you could have heard the thudding of her heart.
+
+'Give then,' said Gilles with a croak, and took her.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'One comes. Who comes?' he said whispering.
+
+'Richard of Anjou. I need you now.'
+
+'Do you want me to--?' Gilles honestly thought he was to kill the Count.
+She undeceived him soon.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'What now, dog?' thus the lean Richard.
+
+'Set down the lady, my lord,' said doughty Gilles. 'She is promised to
+me.'
+
+'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.
+
+'It is true? Thou art promised?'
+
+'I am promised, my lord,' said Jehane. 'Let me go.'
+
+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.
+
+'In whose name art thou promised to this knight, Jehane? In thy
+brother's?'
+
+'No, lord. In my own.'
+
+'Am I nothing?' She began to cry.
+
+'Oh, oh!' she wailed, 'You are everything, everything in the world.'
+
+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.
+
+'What is the name of this knight, Jehane?' She told him, Gilles de
+Gurdun.
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Are you a man of substance, my friend?'
+
+'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
+_routier_ if nothing better offer.'
+
+'If I give you Jehane, what do you give me?'
+
+'Thanks, my good lord, and faith, and long service.'
+
+'Get up, Gilles,' said Richard.
+
+Gilles kissed his knee, and rose. Richard put Jehane's hand into his and
+held the two together.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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!'
+
+'Pardieu,' said Gaston. 'I am with you, Richard, for I am in want. I
+have eaten nothing for two days.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HOW BERTRAN DE BORN AND COUNT RICHARD STROVE IN A _TENZON_
+
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Deus!' cried Gaston here, 'Such marriages may be more to the taste of
+heaven than of men, Richard. Man is a creature of sense.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'That is the saying of a poet and king at once, said Gaston, and really
+believed it.
+
+So they came at dusk to Autafort, a rock castle on the confines of
+Perigord, held by Bertran de Born.
+
+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.
+
+Gaston grinned. 'Hospitality of Aquitaine! Hospitality of your duchy,
+Richard.'
+
+'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.
+
+'Is that you, then, Bertran?' he shouted. There was no answer, but the
+spyer was heard breathing hard at his vent.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Come in, come in, Richard,' said Bertran de Born.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Rascal,' says Richard, shamming rough, 'why do you make faces at me?'
+
+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.
+
+'A _tenzon!_ A _tenzon!_ beau sire!' cries he. 'Now a _tenzon_ between
+you and me!'
+
+'Let it be so,' says Richard; 'have at you. I sing of the calm day, of
+the sweets of true love.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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--
+
+     Li dous consire
+     Quem don' Amors soven--
+
+but I English it thus--
+
+'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.'
+
+Bertran, trembling, snatched at the viol. 'Mine to sing, Richard, mine
+to sing! Ha, love me no more!'
+
+     Cantar d' Amors non voilh,
+
+he began--
+
+'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.'
+
+He misconceived his adversary who thought to quell him by such vapours.
+Richard took the viol.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Give me the truth, thou.' His voice was like an old man's, hollow.
+
+'As God is in heaven that is the truth, Richard,' said Bertran de Born.
+
+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!'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+FRUITS OF _THE TENZON_: THE BACK OF SAINT-POL, AND THE FRONT OF
+MONTFERRAT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'What now, beau sire?' says the Count, out of breath. Richard's eyes
+were alight. 'This,' says he, 'that you lie in your throat.'
+
+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.
+
+'But not strange doing, I think, on your part. This has been going on,
+how long?'
+
+Saint-Pol was stung. 'Ah, it becomes you very ill to reproach me, my
+lord.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'How then?' he asked him, 'how then if I lie not, Count of Poictou? And
+how if you know that I lie not?'
+
+'Then,' said Richard, 'you use insult, which is worse.'
+
+Saint-Pol took off his glove of mail and flung it with a clatter on the
+floor.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+The end of it was a combat _à outrance_ 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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+This raking shot was heard by everybody. John grew red as fire. 'Why,
+what do you mean, Richard?' he stammered.
+
+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.
+
+'Ah! To Paris?' He looked as if he saw death under a bush.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Conrad of Montferrat, cousin of this dead, is there, Richard,' said the
+other with intention; but Richard laughed.
+
+'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?'
+
+'It is in the matter of the kingdom of Jerusalem. He seeks Sibylla and
+that crown, and is like to get them.'
+
+'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.'
+
+Prince John laughed, but not comfortably. 'Your tongue bites, Richard.'
+
+'Pooh,' says Richard, 'what else are you worth? I save my teeth'; and
+went his ways.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Marquess, you use words I will not hear--'
+
+King Philip broke in--'Fair lords, sweet lords--'; but Richard put his
+hand up, having a kingly way with him which even kings observed.
+
+'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.'
+
+The Marquess tugged at his sword. 'And I, Count of Poictou--'; but King
+Philip held out his sceptre, he too very much a king.
+
+'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.
+
+'God forgive me, Philip, but I cannot tell thee--' Pity broke up his
+tones.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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!'
+
+'That you will surely do, my lord,' says the Marquess of Montferrat,
+greatly disturbed.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Touch me not, Count of Poictou;' she whispered the words, and then
+moaned, 'O God, what will become of me?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+She said, 'It is most deep.'
+
+'But His,' said Richard, 'was bitter shame.' She said, 'And mine is
+bitter.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'The hearing is pertinent,' said Richard. 'As a son and man affianced it
+touches me pretty close.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+OF THE CRACKLING OF THORNS UNDER POTS
+
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+'What now, Saint-Pol?' asked King Philip.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'I will give you this reason,' said young Saint-Pol; 'it is because that
+devil who slew my brother will have her else.'
+
+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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'What is this, man?' asked King Philip.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Ah, sire,' said he, in those bloodhound tones of his, 'give us leave to
+deal in this business with free hands.'
+
+'What would you do in it, Marquess?' asked the King fretfully.
+
+'Kill him, by God,' said the Marquess; and young Saint-Pol added, 'Give
+us his life, O lord King.'
+
+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?
+
+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?'
+
+Saint-Pol named the sum, a fair one.
+
+'But what part will he take in the quarrel?' asked the King.
+
+'He will take my part, as he is bound, sire.'
+
+'Pest!' cried Philip, 'let us get at it. What is this part of yours?'
+
+'The part of him who has a blood-feud, my lord,' said young Saint-Pol;
+and the Marquess said, 'That is my part also.'
+
+'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.'
+
+The Marquess and his cousin gave their words, holding up the hilts of
+their swords before their faces.
+
+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.
+
+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 _alba_ (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.
+
+'Behold, behold the dawn, my tender heart!' breathed Gaston.
+
+'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.
+
+But she had to answer it first. It said, '_Vera Copia_. 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.
+
+'Look down, boy, and tell me what you can see.'
+
+'_Dame_!' said the boy, 'I see the moat, and ducks on it.'
+
+'Look again, dear, and tell me what you see.'
+
+'I see an old fish on his back. He is dead.'
+
+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?'
+
+'Certain sure,' said the boy. Jehane gave him money and a kiss, then
+fastened herself to the window.
+
+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.
+
+Have no fear, lovely prisoner. If that is his intention he is gone. I
+kill him. It is arranged.'
+
+'My brother Eustace is in Paris,' says Jehane in a low but carrying
+voice, 'to get my marriage from the King.'
+
+'Again I say, fear nothing,' Gaston cried; but Jehane strained out as
+far as she could.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+He found him after some days' perilous prowling of the Norman march.
+Gilles had received the summons of his Duke to be _vi et armis_ 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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HOW THEY HELD RICHARD OFF FROM HIS FATHER'S THROAT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'What news of Normandy, Gaston?'
+
+'The English are through, Richard. The country swarms with them. They
+hold Avranches, and now are moving south.'
+
+'They are too late,' said Richard. 'Tell me what message you have from
+the Fair-Girdled.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Spine of God,' said Richard, examining his finger-nails.
+
+'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.
+
+'Do you know, Gaston, whom you have seen?' he said presently, in a
+trembling whisper.
+
+'Perfectly well,' said the other. 'I have seen a pale flower ripe for
+the sun.'
+
+'You have seen the Countess of Poictou, Gaston,' said Richard, and took
+to his prayers.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+WILD WORK IN THE CHURCH OF GISORS
+
+
+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!
+
+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.'
+
+'Would you see Jehane, Gilles?' Saint-Pol had asked him before he went
+out. 'She is in her turret as meek as a mouse.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'As you will,' said Saint-Pol. 'Farewell.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+NIGHT-WORK BY THE DARK TOWER
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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!'
+
+'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 _Mort d'Ancestor_, they very soon found out that he
+was no more a Norman than Saint-Pol. The old King made short work of
+their '_ut predictum ests_' and '_Quaesumus igiturs_.'
+
+'Good sirs,' says he, knitting his brows, 'where is this lord who has
+done you so much injury?'
+
+'My lord,' they report, 'he has her in his strong tower on the plain of
+Saint-André, some ten leagues from here.'
+
+Then cries the old King, 'Smoke him out, you fools! What! a badger. Draw
+the thief.'
+
+Then Gilles the elder flattened his lips together and afterwards pursed
+them. 'Lord,' he said, 'that we dare not do without your express
+commandment.'
+
+'Why, why,' snaps the King, 'if I give it you, my solemn fools?'
+
+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.
+
+'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!'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+Presently a little window-casement opened above him; Gaston of Béarn
+poked out his head.
+
+'Beau sire,' he says, 'what entertainment is this for the Count your
+son?'
+
+'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.'
+
+Gaston said, 'Beau sire, you shall come in if you will, and if you come
+in peace.'
+
+Says the King, 'I will come in, by God, and as I will.'
+
+'Foul request, King,' said Gaston, and shut the window.
+
+'Have it as you will; it shall be foul by and by,' the King shouted to
+the night. He bid them fire the place.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+Richard approved. 'Go, Raimon,' he said. 'We will join you on the edge
+of the plain.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+OF PROPHECY; AND JEHANE IN THE PERILOUS BED
+
+
+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 _primus inter pares_), 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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Ride on, ride on, my heart,' said Richard; but she, 'No, no, he is
+coming. We must wait.' Her voice was full of despair.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _tenzon_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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!).
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+HOW THEY BAYED THE OLD LION
+
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Read me the signatures to these damned things,' said the King; and
+Hugh rejoiced that he was better, yet feared to make him worse.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Who follows Richard?' he asked.
+
+'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.
+
+'I cannot read!' cried Hugh with a groan. The King said, 'You are a
+fool. Give me the parchment.'
+
+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, _glebæ ascriptitii_,
+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.'
+
+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?'
+
+Mall said, 'If we are found with him we shall be hanged, sure enough.
+Yet the old man was kind to me.'
+
+'And to me he was kind,' said Nicolete, 'God wot.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'King John! King John of England!' screamed the young man, like a witch
+in the air; then Burgundy began his grumble of thunder.
+
+'I stand for you, by God. I am for you, man.' But Saint-Pol knelt and
+touched his knee.
+
+'Sire, do me right, and I become your man!' So said Des Barres also.
+Count John looked about him and wrung his hands.
+
+'Heh, my lords! Heh, sirs! What shall I do now?' He was liquid; fear and
+desire frittered his heart to water.
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+Reeking he stood, and stood covered, in the presence of so much majesty.
+
+'Speak, sir,' said King Philip; and 'Uncover before France, you dog,'
+said young Saint-Pol. The herald kept his cap where it was.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'"Well, Gaucelm, well," he said; "on your two legs, my man, if you are
+to please me."
+
+'"Lord King--" Gaucelm began, then stopped. My lord bayed at him.
+
+'"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.
+
+'"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.
+
+'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 _tenzon_, and his last Sirvente of Kings, by heaven!
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HOW THEY MET AT FONTEVRAULT
+
+
+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?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Name one, my friend,' says the King, whose eyes were fixed on the edge
+of the hill.
+
+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--
+
+'And was the world much the better?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'And do you dare, Milo,' said the King, turning him a stern face, 'set
+my horrible offence beside the Divine Sacrifice?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'That guilt was mine, Milo,' said Richard with a sob.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Why, what sacrifice shall I do?' says the King.
+
+Milo stood up in his stirrups, greatly exalted in the spirit.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'How lies he?' were his first words; the other's face grew fearful.
+
+'Eh, I know not,' he said, shuddering. 'I have not seen him.' Now, he
+must have been in Fontevrault for a day or more.
+
+'Why not?' asked Richard; and John stretched out his arms again.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'"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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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?"
+
+'"Ha, Madame!" says Count John, shaking like a leafy tree, "what is
+this?" Madame Alois removed my handkerchief. The horror was still there.
+
+'"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!"
+
+'No more than the dead could John speak; but King Richard answered her.
+
+'"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."
+
+'"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."
+
+'"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."
+
+'"You know nothing," said the lady, beginning to tremble. "You are a
+fool."
+
+'"May be," said King Richard, with a little shrug, "but I am a king in
+Fontevrault."
+
+'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.
+
+'"Once more, King Richard," said Madame, "will you hear the truth from
+me?"
+
+'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."
+
+'She began to cry, being overwrought with this terrible affair. "O
+Richard," she said, "forgive me my trespasses. I am most wretched."
+
+'He stepped forward, and across the dead man kissed her on the forehead.
+"God knows, I forgive thee, Alois," he said.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+OF WHAT KING RICHARD SAID TO THE BOWING ROOD; AND WHAT JEHANE TO KING
+RICHARD
+
+
+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.
+
+'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, _Abba_, 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 _a latere_, 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, _suspirante deo_.
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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!
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'"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.
+
+'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!"
+
+'"'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.
+
+'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, _Non omnia possumus omnes_; 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?"
+
+'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, _ma mie_, I am in a mood of Yea
+this night. Therefore deny me not."
+
+'"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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Richard, O Richard, touch me not!'
+
+'God on the Cross, what is this?'
+
+'Touch me not, touch me never; but never leave me!'
+
+'O my pale rose! O fair-girdled!' She stood up, white as her gown,
+transfigured, very serious.
+
+'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.'
+
+Richard watched her, frowning. He was much moved, but thought of what
+she said.
+
+'Ruin, Jehane, ruin?'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+LAST _TENZON_ OF BERTRAN DE BORN
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Now, Bertran,' says he, 'you shall give me news of poets and the food
+of poets. All the talk here is of bad debts.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'I am sorry to hear it,' says King Sancho, 'and trust that you have not
+brought one of those torches with you.'
+
+Bertran shook his head; interruptions worried him, for he lived
+maddeningly, like a man that has a drumming in his ear.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Now, why does he do that, Bertran?' cried King Sancho, opening his eyes
+wide.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Deus!' said the King. 'Bertran, is this the truth?'
+
+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.'
+
+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?'
+
+'Ah,' said Bertran, with his hand scratching in his vest, 'I light no
+candles, my lord; but I counsel you to light them.'
+
+'Phew!' said King Sancho, and stuck his arms out; 'on whose account,
+Bertran, on whose account?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Deus! Oy, Deus!' cried King Sancho, pale with amazement, 'and are all
+these thrones in arms, lighting candles against Count Richard?'
+
+'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?
+
+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.'
+
+'And the King his father, Bertran, where is he? Far off, I hope.'
+
+'He,' said Bertran, 'is in Normandy with a host, seeking the head of his
+son Richard on a charger.'
+
+'The great man that he is!' cried Don Sancho. Bertran could not contain
+himself.
+
+'Great or not, he is to pay his debts! The old rascal stag is rotten
+with fever.'
+
+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?
+
+'Sire,' replied Bertran, 'he is in his city of Paris, comforting Dame
+Alois, and assembling his estates for Count Richard's flank.'
+
+'And Prince John?'
+
+'Oh, sire, he has friends. He waits. Watch for him presently.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+And so he did, to a very different tune from that imagined by Bertran,
+the letter which follows:--
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+The virgin kept her eyes down; a very faint flush of rose troubled her
+cheek.
+
+'I am in your hands, sire,' she said, whereupon Don Sancho enfolded her.
+
+'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?'
+
+'He is a very great lord,' said Berengère, 'and will be a great king. I
+hope to serve him faithfully.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'The sun shines upon my Frozen Heart,' said Bertran. She gave him her
+hand to kiss.
+
+'No heart of yours am I, Bertran,' she said; 'but chosen for a king.'
+
+'A king, lady! Whom then?'
+
+She answered, 'A king to be. My lord Richard of Poictou.'
+
+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.
+
+'A great lord, a hot lord, a very strenuous lord!' he said in jerks. It
+was all there was to say.
+
+'He is a prince who might claim a lady's love, I suppose,' said
+Berengère, with considering looks.
+
+'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?'
+
+'I beg that you will not,' she said, stiffening herself. So Bertran
+grinned his rage. But he had one thing to say.
+
+'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.
+
+'You vex yourself, Bertran, and me also,' she said. 'It is ill talking
+between a prince and his friend.'
+
+'Am I not your friend then, my lady?' he asked her with bitterness.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+CONVERSATION IN ENGLAND OF JEHANE THE FAIR
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'Eh, sire! Eh, Richard!' said the Queen-Mother, 'then he knows more than
+I.'
+
+'I think not, Madame,' the King replied, 'since I have this moment
+informed you.'
+
+The Queen swallowed this; then said, 'This wife of yours, Richard, who
+is not Duchess of Normandy, will not be Queen, I doubt?'
+
+Richard's face grew haggard; for the moment he looked old. 'Such again
+is the fact, Madame.'
+
+'But--' the Queen began. Richard looked at her, so she ended there.
+
+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.'
+
+'Your words prove that there is one at least,' said the Queen-Mother
+with heat. 'You speak very ill, my son.'
+
+Said John, 'And he does very ill, by the Bread!'
+
+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.
+
+'Anjou! Who dares put her up there?'
+
+'Madame,' said William, 'it was my lord the King.' The Queen fumed.
+
+Then the Archbishop said, 'She is nobly born, of the house of Saint-Pol.
+I understand that she has a clear mind.'
+
+'More,' cried the Marshal, 'she has a clear heart!'
+
+'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.
+
+In the event, the Queen one day took to her barge, crossed the river,
+and confronted the girl who stood between England and Navarre.
+
+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.
+
+'No pouting with me, mistress,' she said. 'Send these women away. It is
+with you I have to deal.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'Madame, alas!' she said, with a hint of shrugging; 'if I have worn the
+Count's cap I know the measure of my head.'
+
+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.'
+
+Jehane did not flinch nor turn her eyes from considering her whitening
+wrist.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Why, whom should I offend then?' the Queen said, sniffing--'your
+ladyship?'
+
+'A greater,' said Jehane.
+
+'You think the King would be offended?'
+
+'Madame,' Jehane said, 'he could be offended; but so would you be.'
+
+The Queen-Mother tightened hold. 'I am not easily offended, mistress,'
+she said, and smiled rather bleakly.
+
+Jehane also smiled, but with patience, not trying to get free her wrist.
+
+'My blood would offend you. You dare not bleed me.'
+
+'Death in life!' the Queen cried, 'is there any but the King to stop me
+now?'
+
+'Madame,' Jehane answered, 'there is the spoken word against you, the
+spirit of prophecy.'
+
+Then her jailer saw that Jehane's eyes were green, and very steady. This
+checked her.
+
+'Who speaks? Who prophesies?'
+
+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."'
+
+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.'
+
+'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
+_mie_; because so surely as he sends me away, so surely will Gilles de
+Gurdun have me.'
+
+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.'
+
+'I never mean to leave him,' said Jehane. 'That is my punishment, and (I
+think) his also.'
+
+'His punishment, my child?'
+
+'Why, Madame,' said Jehane, 'you think that the King must wed.'
+
+'Yes, yes.'
+
+'And to wed, he must put me away.'
+
+'Yes, yes, child.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'O King Christ,' she prayed, 'take from my soiled hand this sacrifice!'
+
+She prayed to Christ, but looked at Richard. He dared speak for Christ.
+
+'What sacrifice, my child?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Quicken thee, Richard?' she said. 'Nay, but thou art quick, my King.
+The Cross hath made thee quick; thou hast given more than I.'
+
+'I will give all by thy direction,' he said, 'for I know that thou wilt
+save my honour.'
+
+'Trust me there,' said Jehane, and let him kiss her cheek.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+FROZEN HEART AND RED HEART: CAHORS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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:--
+
+'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.'
+
+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?'
+
+The Bishop, his diplomacy at an end, grew very red. He had nothing to
+say. Des Barres must needs put in his word.
+
+'Bethink you, fair sire,' he says: 'the Marquess is of my kindred.'
+
+'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.'
+
+Des Barres glared about him, as if he hoped to find a reply among the
+joists.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day of his expectation, King Richard heard mass in a most
+unchristian frame of mind. There was no _Sursum Corda_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _langue d'oc_, 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.
+
+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.
+
+'Oh, yes, Madame, he is taller than I.'
+
+'They say he is cruel. Did you--do you think him cruel?'
+
+'Madame, no, no.'
+
+'He is a poet, they say. Has he made many songs of me?'
+
+Jehane murmured her doubts, exquisitely confused.
+
+'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.'
+
+So Jehane went first of all the ladies who led the Queen to the King.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Ask King Richard if he will have her with that in hand and the
+territories demarked,' said Don Sancho.
+
+This was done. Richard grew grave, made no more jokes. He turned to
+Milo, who happened to be near him.
+
+'Where is the little lady?' he asked him. Milo looked out of the
+window.
+
+'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.'
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+
+THE BOOK OF NAY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE CHAFFER CALLED MATE-GRIFON
+
+
+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 _Trenchemer_, 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 _Li Chastel Orgoilous_, 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.
+
+     Saincte Catherine,
+     Vélà la nuict qui gagne!
+
+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--
+
+     Domna, dels angels regina,
+     Domna, roza ses espina,
+     Domna, joves enfantina,
+     Domna, estela marina,
+     De las autras plus luzens!
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Learn, Des Barres,' he said, 'that I allow no cries about my head save
+those for Saint George.'
+
+'Sire,' said Des Barres, 'I am no man of yours.'
+
+'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.
+
+'Soul of a virgin!' cried Des Barres, white as cloth, except for the
+broad weal on his face.
+
+'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?
+
+'Here, my lord,' said Des Barres, clearing his throat, 'comes a
+gentleman who has sought your Grace with better cause than mine.'
+
+'Who is your gentleman?' Richard asked him.
+
+'It is De Gurdun, sire, a Norman knight whose name should be familiar.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Richard said, 'De Gurdun, stand up and answer me. You seek my life, as I
+understand. Is it so?'
+
+Sir Gilles began to stammer. 'No man has loved the law--no knight ever
+loved lady--' and so on; but Richard cut him short.
+
+'Answer me, man,' he said, in a voice which was nearly as dry as his
+father's, 'do you wish for my life?'
+
+'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?'
+
+Richard grew impatient; he could never bear waiting.
+
+'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.
+
+King Richard threw down his sword. 'Take it then, you fool,' he said.
+'You talk too much.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+'There is no better work for me, sir,' said Gurdun, 'unless you can
+justify yourself.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'God damn him,' said Gilles de Gurdun for his part.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'No, no, Richard,' said the Queen-Mother; 'I am needed in England. I
+cannot come.'
+
+'Then let Joan take her,' said the King.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+OF WHAT JEHANE LOOKED FOR, AND WHAT BERENGÈRE HAD
+
+
+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.
+
+'"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."
+
+'"Oh, sire," says Berengère, "I am acquainted with this lady. She has
+nothing to fear from me."
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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 _Lauda
+Sion_, whose tune before had been _Adhæsit pavimento_, when he rested
+tired eyes upon the clustered spires of a white city, smokeless and
+asleep in the early morning light.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Dear sire,' said Joan, 'it appears that you have sown a seed, and must
+look before long for the harvest.' The King laughed.
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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?
+
+'Oh, sister,' he said, 'Oh, sister, are you very sure of this?
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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!'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+His voice was hushed to a boy's murmur.
+
+'Jehane, ma mye, is it true?'
+
+'I am the mother of a son,' she said.
+
+'Give God the glory!'
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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?
+
+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.'
+
+He would not let her go, but still looked earnestly down at her,
+struggling with himself against himself.
+
+'I must be married, Jehane,' says he presently. And she, 'In a good
+hour, my lord.'
+
+'It is an accursed hour,' he said; 'nothing but ill can come of it.'
+
+'Lord,' said she, 'thou art vowed to this work.'
+
+'I know it very well,' he replied; 'but a man does as he can.'
+
+'You, my King Richard, do as you will,' said Jehane. So he kissed her
+and let her go.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+'Milo, continence is, I suppose, of all virtues the most excellent?'
+Milo prepared to expatiate.
+
+'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.
+
+'And therefore, Milo, it is urged upon the clergy by the ordinances of
+many honourable popes and patriarchs?'
+
+'_Distinguo_, sire,' said Milo, '_distinguo_. 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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'Lord,' replied the abbot, 'if he can. But that is not so convenient.'
+
+'How not so?' asked King Richard.
+
+'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.'
+
+Said the King, 'A way of sorrow and shame.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'Lord,' Milo admonished, 'a king who is sure of himself will make sure
+of his issue. That too is a king's business.'
+
+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.'
+
+'I devoutly hope so,' said the good man. 'And then your Grace will have
+a surer hope than in your Grace's brother.'
+
+'Get you to bed, Milo,' Richard said, 'and let me be alone.'
+
+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, _Li Chastel Orgoilous_, whose head swayed to the
+running tide.
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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!'
+
+His sword flickered in the air; there followed it, leaping after the
+beam, a great swish of steel, soon a forest of swords.
+
+'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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+WHO FOUGHT AT ACRE
+
+
+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 _Trenchemer_ 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.
+
+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 _Trenchemer_, and waded breast-deep
+to shore. He was the first of his realm to touch this storied Syrian
+earth.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.
+
+It was hopeless from the outset--a _posse_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+Philip shivered in his furs. 'I must go home,' he fretted; 'I am smitten
+to death. I must die in France.'
+
+'Where is the King of England?' asked the, Marquess, knowing perfectly
+well.
+
+'Evil light upon him,' cried Saint-Pol, 'he is in my sister's house.
+Between them they give me a nephew.'
+
+'Oho!' Montferrat said. 'Is that it? Why, then, we know where to strike
+him quickest. We should make Navarre of our party.'
+
+'He has done that himself, by all accounts: said the Duke of Burgundy,
+wide-awake.
+
+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?
+
+'My lord,' said they, 'you cannot.'
+
+'How is that?' he asked.
+
+'Lord,' they told him, 'by our arts we discover that he will live for a
+hundred years.'
+
+'It is very remarkable,' said the Archduke. 'What sort of years will
+they be?'
+
+'Lord,' said the astrologers, 'they are divers in complexion; but many
+of them are red.'
+
+'I will provide that they be,' said the Archduke. 'Go away.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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"?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'What old man is this, Moffadin?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'How do they serve him, by killing?'
+
+'Yes. They kill whomsoever he points out, and so receive (or think to
+receive) a crown in Paradise.'
+
+'Is this old man's name Death, by our Saviour?' cried the Marquess.
+
+The Sheik answered, 'His name is Sinan. But the name of Death would suit
+him very well.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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."
+
+'I am very much obliged to you, Moffadin,' said the Marquess.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+CONCERNING THE TOWER OF FLIES, SAINT-POL, AND THE MARQUESS OF MONTFERRAT
+
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+And Gilles, 'I pray God may spit him out.'
+
+'Oh, He!' said Saint-Pol with a bitter laugh; 'He helps those who are
+helpful of themselves.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Have at his back, then.'
+
+'I hope it may not come to that, said Gilles; 'and yet it may, if it
+must.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'I stay,' said Gilles de Gurdun. King Richard came out of church, and
+Jehane, and the child carried on a shield.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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!'
+
+'Dear lord, sweet lord,' murmured Jehane, faint in bed, nearly gone: but
+he raved on.
+
+'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.'
+
+The Bishop began to splutter. 'Hey, sire--!'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Ha, sire, look you now,' cried the desperate bishop, 'there will be no
+broom before next Easter. Here we are at Lammas.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'Madame, how is it with your Grace?' he said. The little lady quivered,
+but took no notice.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+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!'
+
+'He will,' said Montferrat, 'if we help to mend.'
+
+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.'
+
+The Queen shook her head, impatient. 'Hey! What can you do against so
+glorious a man? He is the greatest in the world.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'End the wretch who wrought it.'
+
+'Do we go clean to that, Marquess? Have we no back-thoughts of our own?'
+
+'The work is clean enough. You come to-night to the Tower of Flies?'
+
+'Yes, yes, I will come,' said Saint-Pol.
+
+'I shall have one with me,' the Marquess went on, 'who will be of
+service, mind you.'
+
+'Ah,' said Saint-Pol, 'and so shall I.'
+
+The Marquess stroked his nose. 'Hum,' he said, advising, 'who might your
+man be, Saint-Pol?'
+
+'One,' said Eustace, 'who has reason to hate Richard as much as that
+poor lady in there.'
+
+'Who is that?'
+
+'My sister Jehane's lover.'
+
+'By the visible Host,' said Montferrat,' we shall be a loving company,
+all told.' So they parted for the time.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+The tall man saw him, but did not move. The Marquess came quite close.
+
+'What are you looking at, my friend?' he asked, in the Arabian tongue.
+
+'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!'
+
+The Marquess turned sick. 'God help, I cannot look,' he said.
+
+'Why,' said the Arabian, 'It is a dead man they fight over.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+The Marquess looked at the flies. 'O God, Arabian, let us go away from
+this place! Is there no rest from the flies?
+
+'None at all,' said the Arabian; 'for thousands have been slain here;
+and the flies also must be fed.'
+
+'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?'
+
+The Marquess remembered his needs. 'I want the death of a man,' he said;
+'but not here, O Christ.'
+
+'Who sent you?' asked the Arabian.
+
+'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.
+
+'Come with me,' said the Arabian.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'Where is your man, Marquess?' asked Saint-Pol of the pale Italian.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'By our Saviour,' he said, 'one must hate a man very much to talk
+against him here.'
+
+'Do you hate enough?' asked Saint-Pol.
+
+The Marquess stared about him. He saw the Archduke peacefully twiddle
+his thumbs. He saw De Gurdun, who stood moodily, looking at the floor.
+
+'Oh, content you,' Saint-Pol answered him. 'That man hates more than you
+or I. And with more reason.'
+
+'What are your reasons, Eustace?' asked Montferrat, still in a whisper.
+
+'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?'
+
+'By God, Eustace,' said the breathless Montferrat, 'I cannot think it.
+Not here!'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Eh, my friends,' he said, almost praying, 'will this not serve me?'
+
+Said Saint-Pol, 'Marquess, listen to this man. Speak, Gilles.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Eh, damn the flies,' said Gilles. 'They will never disturb me. They do
+but seek their meat.'
+
+'They disturb me horribly,' said the Marquess, with Italian candour.
+
+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?'
+
+'I have given you mine,' said Montferrat, shifting his feet. 'He called
+me a liar.'
+
+'It lacks cogency,' said Saint-Pol. 'One must have clean reasons in an
+unclean place.' The Marquess broke out into blasphemy.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Do as you please, my lord,' said Saint-Pol; 'but our schemes are like
+to be endangered by such goings.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Cousin,' said Montferrat, 'you desert me.'
+
+'Cousin again,' said the Archduke, 'do you wonder?' And so he walked
+out.
+
+'Punctilious boar!' cried Saint-Pol in a fume, 'who can only get his
+tushes in one way! Now, Marquess, what are we to do?'
+
+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.'
+
+'You hire?' asked Saint-Pol, drily. Then he shrugged--'Oh, but we may
+trust you!'
+
+'Per la Madonna!' said the Marquess.
+
+'What will you do, Gilles?' Saint-Pol asked the Norman. 'Will you leave
+it to the Marquess of Montferrat?'
+
+'I will not,' said Gilles. 'I follow King Richard from point to point. I
+hire nobody.'
+
+The Marquess's hands went up, desperate of such folly. 'You only with
+me, my Eustace!' he said.
+
+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--'
+
+'By my soul, it shall not be in the back!' cried De Gurdun. Saint-Pol
+shrugged again.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE CHAPTER OF FORBIDDING: HOW DE GURDUN LOOKED, AND KING RICHARD HID
+HIS FACE
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'And what is that, King of England?' asked Philip.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Will he come back, sire?' asked the French knight.
+
+'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.'
+
+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?'
+
+'Sire,' replied Des Barres, 'it was the Duke of Burgundy.'
+
+'You do not understand me,' said Richard. 'It came through the Duke of
+Burgundy's windpipe. But who put it into his thick head?'
+
+Des Barres looked troubled. 'Ah, sire, must I answer you?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+The Duke of Burgundy looked heavily at the Bishop. The Bishop said,
+'Sire, Ascalon is besieged.'
+
+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.'
+
+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--'
+
+'Ah,' said Richard, 'the Count of Saint-Pol? Now I begin to understand
+you. Please to fetch in your Count of Saint-Pol.'
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'Sire,' said Saint-Pol, reasonably, 'it means that we believe the Holy
+City impregnable at this season, or untenable; and Ascalon still
+pregnable.'
+
+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.'
+
+This was dreadful hearing: Saint-Pol bit his lip, but made no other
+answer.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Pish!' said King Richard.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Unadvisedly!' the King thundered at him, red to the roots of his hair.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'What do you say, my lord?' again asked King Richard.
+
+The Duke of Burgundy was troubled: he blinked, looking at Saint-Pol. But
+Saint-Pol was looking at the tent-roof.
+
+'Be pleased to look at me,' said Richard; and the man did look, working
+under his wrongs.
+
+'By God, Richard,' said the Duke of Burgundy, 'you owe me forty pound!'
+
+King Richard laughed till he was helpless.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'Montjoy, dear master,' said Gaston.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+Gaston demurred. 'The hill is manned, sire. Beware an ambush. You have
+enemies close by.' He hinted at Saint-Pol.
+
+'I have only one enemy that I fear, Gaston,' said the King; 'and he
+rides my horse. Do as I tell you.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+Said King Richard from behind his shield, 'Is that you, Gurdun, my
+enemy?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+Said Gilles between his teeth, 'You robber, you have seen my wife, and
+cannot save her now' Richard laughed softly.
+
+'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.'
+
+'You speak idly,' said Gurdun, 'of things which no man knows.'
+
+'Ah,' said the King, 'but I do know them. Leave me: I wish to pray.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Ah, Rolf,' said the King, 'dost thou turn away from me, man?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'As God lives,' said Richard, 'I will see to it.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE CHAPTER CALLED CLYTEMNESTRA
+
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+'Ohè!' said Misra, 'we must tell this sleeper. She is moon of the
+Melek.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Oh, King of Kings!' said Misra, with a little sob, 'and thou wilt stand
+by, thou sorrowful, while the Marquess kills the Melek!'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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?
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'Breast shall touch breast here,' said Milo to himself, full of hope,
+'and mouth meet mouth. Courage, old heart.'
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'It is not my part to think of it, Madame,' said Jehane, holding herself
+rather stiffly.
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Folly,' snapped the Queen, 'or guile. You would spur him. Is it true
+what the Abbot Milo told me?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'I touch not again your King and mine, O Queen. But I go to save him.'
+
+'Woman,' said Berengère, 'do you dare tell me this? Are my miseries
+nothing to you? Have you not worked woe enough?'
+
+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!'
+
+'Why, what can you do against Montferrat?' The Queen shivered a little:
+Jehane looked fixedly at her, solemn as a dying nun.
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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, _Vetus de Monte_'; 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE CHAPTER OF THE SACRIFICE ON LEBANON; ALSO CALLED CASSANDRA
+
+
+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.
+
+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, Barin. From that height they looked down upon the domes and
+gardens of Musse, and knew that half their work was done.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'And it is not the custom of our men,' replied the Assassin, 'to choose
+unveiled women. And this for obvious reasons.'
+
+'What are your reasons, my son?' asked the abbot.
+
+'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.'
+
+'The saying hath meat in it,' said the abbot; 'but here is no question
+of merchants, nor of marriage, pardieu.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'And do you also think,' asked the Old Man, scarcely audible, 'That the
+Melek Richard will thank you for these precautions of yours?'
+
+'My lord,' said Milo, 'we seek not his thanks, nor his good opinion, but
+his safety.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+OF THE GOING-UP AND GOING-DOWN OF THE MARQUESS
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'But that, very honourable sir,' said the Marquess, with ill-concealed
+impatience, 'is the simple object of my journey.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'I can give his lordship a week,' said the Marquess.
+
+'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.'
+
+'My friend,' the Marquess said, opening his eyes, 'I am the King-elect
+of Jerusalem.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+These propositions were written down on tablets, and carefully
+scrutinized by the Old Man of Musse, who said at last--
+
+'Let us take these considerations in order. Of what kings do you
+propound the amity?'
+
+'Of yourself, sir,' replied the Marquess, 'and of myself.'
+
+'I am not a king,' said Sinan, 'and had not heard that you were one
+either.'
+
+'I am King-elect of Jerusalem,' the Marquess replied with stiffness.
+The Old Man raised his wrinkled forehead.
+
+'Well,' he said, 'let us get on. What is your common good cause?'
+
+'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.
+
+'Do you strike, Marquess?' he asked at length.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Do you speak of the scandal of Christendom?' asked Sinan, twinkling.
+
+'Alas, I must,' said the Marquess, very mournful.
+
+'The cause is near to your heart, I see, Marquess.'
+
+'It is in it,' replied the Marquess. The Old Man considered him afresh;
+then inquired where the Melek might be found.
+
+The Marquess told him. 'We believe he is at Ascalon, separate from the
+Duke of Burgundy.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Ha, Jesus-God!' grunted the Marquess, as the sweat dripped off him.
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Is it time?' he asked of his brother, without turning his head.
+
+'Not yet,' Cogia replied. The Marquess prayed vehemently, but with shut
+lips.
+
+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.
+
+'The signal is a good one,' he said. 'Strike, Cogia.'
+
+Cogia drove his knife in up to the heft. The Marquess coughed. Giafar
+lifted him from his ass, quite dead.
+
+'Now,' says he, 'go thou back, Cogia. I will stay here. For so the Old
+Man plainly desired.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+Jehane's green eyes faltered for a moment as she gazed into his wise old
+face.
+
+'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--
+
+'I might fairly claim my reward for that. And so I should if I had not
+got it already.'
+
+Again Jehane pondered him gravely. 'What reward more have you, sire?'
+
+The Old Man, smiling very wisely, pressed her waist. Jehane thought.
+
+'Why, what will you do with me now, sire?' she inquired. 'Will you kill
+me?'
+
+'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.'
+
+Jehane opened her eyes very wide. 'Why, do you know my lord, sire?' she
+asked. The Old Man took her hand.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'You will do as you choose, my lord,' said she, 'I doubt not.'
+
+'Be quite sure of it, dear child,' said the Old Man.
+
+Then he sent her back into the harem.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+HOW KING RICHARD REAPED WHAT JEHANE HAD SOWED, AND THE SOLDAN WAS
+GLEANER
+
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+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.'
+
+Richard had grey streaks in his face. 'Ah,' he says hoarsely, 'go on,
+cousin.' The young man stammered.
+
+'Beau sire, God strikes in divers places, but always finds out the
+joints of our harness.'
+
+'Go on,' says King Richard, sitting very still.
+
+'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.'
+
+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?'
+
+'He is at Acre, sire,' says the Count; 'and in prison.'
+
+'Who put him there?'
+
+'Myself, sire.'
+
+'You did wrong, Count. Get you back to Acre and bring him to me.'
+Champagne went away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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 _hauberk of mail_. 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."
+
+'I said, "Sire, we went to the Lord of the Assassins, whom they call Old
+Man of Musse."
+
+'"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?"
+
+'"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."
+
+'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.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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?
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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 _Trenchemer_ 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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'Are you wounded, dear sire?' asked Saphadin.
+
+'Wounded?' said the King in a whisper. 'Yes, wounded in the soul, and in
+the heart--sick, sick, sick.'
+
+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.
+
+When peace was made they carried him to his ship. The fleet went to
+Acre.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE CHAPTER CALLED BONDS
+
+
+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.'
+
+'Madame d'Anjou!' cried Joan, who (as you know) had plenty of spirit; 'I
+think you rob the Queen of a title there.'
+
+'I cannot rob her of what she never had,' said King Richard; 'but I will
+repeat my question if you do not remember it.'
+
+'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?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Sire, sire,' said Joan, 'how is she to do that?'
+
+'As she will,' says the King; 'but, for my part of it, with every proper
+accompaniment.'
+
+'Sire, the dowry--'
+
+'I return it, every groat.'
+
+'The affront--'
+
+'The affront is offered. I prevent a greater affront.'
+
+'Is this fixed, Richard?'
+
+'Irrevocably.'
+
+'She loves you, sire!'
+
+'She loves ill. Get up on your feet.'
+
+'Sire, I beseech you pity her.'
+
+'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.
+
+'Ah, sire!'
+
+'The audience is at an end,' said the King; and the Queen of Sicily rose
+to take leave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Who are your pilgrims?' Gunther asked; and was told, Master Hugh, a
+merchant of Alost, he and his servants.
+
+'What manner of a merchant?' was Gunther's next question.
+
+'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.'
+
+Gunther said, 'Let me see this merchant,' and went down to the inn where
+King Richard was.
+
+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.
+
+'Are you Master Hugh of Alost?' Gunther asked, looking him over.
+
+'That is the name I bear,' said Richard. 'And who are you, my friend?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'You are a very tall merchant, Hugh,' says he. 'Do they make your sort
+in Alost?' King Richard laughed.
+
+'It is the only advantage I have of your lordship. For the rest, my
+countrywomen make straight men, I think.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'Lightning!' was the Austrian's thought; 'here is a pretty easy
+merchant.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Ha, here is Lord Gunther again,' said he. 'Better than beer.'
+
+'King Richard of England,' said the Austrian, white by nature, heat, and
+his feelings, 'I make you my prisoner.'
+
+'So it seems,' replied the King; 'sit down, Gunther. I offer you beer
+and a most indifferent cheese.'
+
+But Gunther would by no means sit down in the presence of an anointed
+king for one bidding.
+
+'Ah, sire, it is proper that I should stand before you,' he said
+huskily, greatly excited.
+
+'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.
+
+'Come, Gunther,' he says, 'we had better take the road.'
+
+'I am ready, sire,' says Gunther, manifestly unready. He rose and shook
+himself.
+
+'Lead, then,' Richard said.
+
+'I follow you, sire.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Ha, sire!' came the words, deeply exultant, from his big throat. 'Now
+we are on more equal terms, it appears.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'That is true,' replied Richard, 'but neither could they restore them to
+life.'
+
+'Sire, sire!' cried the Archduke, 'upon my soul I believe you guilty of
+the Marquess's death.'
+
+'I assumed that you did,' was the King's answer; 'and your protestation
+adds no weight to my theory, but otherwise.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'I must keep you in safe hold, sire,' the Archduke said. 'I must
+communicate with my lord the Roman Emperor.'
+
+'You are in your right, Luitpold,' said King Richard.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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
+_colluvies gentium_. 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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+     Li dous consire
+     Quem don' Ainors soven--
+
+and knew that he had run down his man.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE CHAPTER CALLED _A LATERE_
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'What are you willing to do, sire?' she asked him. Sinan stroked his
+fine beard.
+
+'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.'
+
+'I can do that,' said Jehane, 'if you will do the rest.' The Old Man
+patted her cheek.
+
+'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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+He wrote two letters, sealing them with his own signet and that of King
+Solomon. To the Archduke he said curtly--
+
+'To the Archduke Luitpold, _Vetus de Monte_ 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.'
+
+But the Emperor demanded more civil advertisement: he got a remarkably
+fine letter.
+
+'To the most exalted man, Henry, by the grace of God Emperor of the
+Romans, happy, pious, ever august, the invincible Conqueror, _Vetus de
+Monte_, 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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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--
+
+     Al entrada del tems clar, eya!
+     Per joja recomençar, eya!
+     Vol la regina mostrar
+     Qu'el' es si amoroza.
+
+The sun kindled her lifted face, filled her wet eyes with light, and
+glistened on her praying lips.
+
+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 _Li dous consire_, that song which he had made of and for her.
+
+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.
+
+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, _'Al entrada del tems clar,
+eya!'_
+
+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.
+
+'Well, Cogia?' said Jehane, holding herself.
+
+'Mistress, the letter of our lord has been delivered. I think it may go
+hard with the Melek.'
+
+'What, Cogia? Does the Archduke dare?'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Mistress--' said Cogia. She turned blank eyes upon him. 'I pray,' she
+said; 'I pray. Has God no pity?'
+
+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.'
+
+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.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'Ha, Heart of Jesus!' said Gilles de Gurdun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE CHAPTER OF STRIFE IN THE DARK
+
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+Then he broke with Richard altogether; and then came Gilles de Gurdun
+with secret words and offers.
+
+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.
+
+'Are you angry enough to do what you propose?' he asked him. 'I am not,
+let me tell you.'
+
+'I have been trying to kill him for four years,' said Gilles.
+
+'And are you man enough, my fellow?' Gilles cast down his eyes.
+
+'I have not been man enough yet, since he still lives. I think I am
+now.' Then there was a pause.
+
+'What is your price?' asked Luitpold after this.
+
+Gilles said, 'I have no price'; and the Archduke, 'You suit my humour
+exactly.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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 _Li Chastel d' Amors_, which
+runs--
+
+     Las portas son de parlar
+     Al eissir e al entrar:
+     Qui gen non sab razonar,
+
+     Defors li ven a estar.
+     E las claus son de prejar:
+     Ab cel obron li cortes--
+
+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 '_Defors li ven a
+estar_,' he came in, and sturdily forward. Richard saw him and put up
+his hand: on went the hammered rhymes--
+
+     E las claus son de prejar:
+     Ab cel obron li cortes.
+
+Here was a little break. Gilles, very dark, took a step; up shot
+Richard's warning hand--
+
+     Dedinz la clauson qu'i es
+     Son las mazos dels borges . . .
+
+On went the exulting voice after the new rhymes, gayer and yet more gay.
+_Li Chastel d'Amors_ 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?'
+
+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.
+
+'Oh, Gurdun,' he said, 'what a fool you are.'
+
+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.
+
+'Well,' said Richard, 'Have you had enough?'
+
+'Yes, you wolf,' said Gurdun, 'I shall wait till it is dark.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+The gaoler came pale-faced in. 'A thousand pardons, sire, a thousand
+pardons--'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Get up, Gurdun,' said Richard. 'Tell me that you are ashamed of
+yourself, and then listen to me.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'Where is Jehane, my lord?' said Gurdun, very black.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Palestine! Palestine! Lord Christ, have you turned her away?' Gilles
+cried, beside himself. Again King Richard looked at him, but afterwards
+shrugged.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'I could do nothing, Jehane,' Gilles whimpered; 'I went to kill him.'
+
+'You fool, I know it. I saw you go. I could have stayed you as I do now.
+But I would not.'
+
+'Why not, Jehane?'
+
+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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+Gilles now shivered and looked about him; but Jehane, having mastered
+her breath, smiled.
+
+'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.'
+
+'I will do as I am bid, Jehane,' said the cowed man, 'because I needs
+must.'
+
+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.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.'
+
+'Mistress,' replied Cogia, 'I am your slave. Do as you will.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+OF THE LOVE OF WOMEN
+
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'He hates you, indeed, sire. He hates me. He hates all of us.'
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+The King said, 'You visit us late, sister; but your occasions may drive
+you.'
+
+'They do drive me, sire. I have seen the Sieur Gilles de Gurdun. King
+Richard is in hold at Gratz, and must be delivered.'
+
+'By you, sister?'
+
+'By me, sire.'
+
+'You grow Christian, Madame.'
+
+'It is my need, sire. I have done King Richard a great wrong. This is
+not tolerable to me.'
+
+'Eh,' says Philip, 'not so fast. Was no wrong done to you?'
+
+'Wrong was done me,' said the white girl, 'but not by him.'
+
+'The wrong lies in his blood. What though the wrong-doer is dead? His
+blood must answer it.'
+
+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.'
+
+'You speak darkly, sister.'
+
+'I live in the dark,' said Alois.
+
+'King Richard has affronted my house in you sister.'
+
+But she said, 'I have affronted King Richard through his house.'
+
+'Is this all you have to say, Alois?'
+
+'No, sire,' she told him, with a fierce and biting look at Mortain; 'but
+it is all I need say now.'
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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?'
+
+She looked doubtfully. 'I owe him honour, Philip,' she said slowly. 'He
+is a great king.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'To him,' said Alois, 'you are nothing.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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--'
+
+'Pish!' said King Philip, and gave him his back.
+
+'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.
+
+'Now, Mortain,' he said, 'what proof is there of that old business of my
+sister's?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'Ah,' she said, 'you trouble me again, Jehane? Am I never to rest from
+you?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Sell? Sell? What can I sell that he will buy?' whined Berengère. 'He
+loves me not.'
+
+'Well,' said Jehane, 'what has that to do with it? Do you not love
+him?'
+
+'I am his miserable wife. I have nothing to sell.
+
+'Sell your pride, Berengère,' says Jehane. Berengère bit her lip.
+
+'You speak strangely to me, woman.'
+
+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.'
+
+'You do not love your husband?'
+
+'How should I,' said Jehane, 'when I love yours? But I honour my
+husband, and watch over his honour: he is good to me.'
+
+'You dare to tell me that you love the King? Ah, you have been with him
+again!' Jehane looked critically at her.
+
+'I have not seen him, nor ever shall till he is dead. But we must save
+him, you and I, Berengère.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'Kiss me, Jehane!'
+
+'Yes, yes, I will kiss you now, Frozen Heart. You are thawed.'
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+HOW THE LEOPARD WAS LOOSED
+
+
+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!
+
+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.
+
+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, _Le Roy le veult_, he scorned himself and the bill,
+and risked wide heaven to make either nought.
+
+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?
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+The Viscount did not go. 'We have him, eh, we have him!' cheered
+Saint-Pol, rubbing his hands together.
+
+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.'
+
+'I am playing a gentleman's part,' replied the other, 'to entrap a
+villain.'
+
+'Your villain is six foot two inches, and hath arms to agree,' said the
+Viscount, a dry man.
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+OECONOMIC REFLECTIONS OF THE OLD MAN OF MUSSE
+
+
+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--
+
+'La très-haulte et ma très chère dame, Madame Jehane, Comtesse d'Anjou,
+de la part le Roy Richard. Hastez tousjours.'
+
+The letter was brought to the Old Man as he sat in his white hail among
+his mutes.
+
+'Fulness of Light,' said the Vizier, after prostrations, 'here is come a
+letter from the Melek Richard, sealed, for her Highness the Golden
+Rose.'
+
+'Give it to me, Vizier,' said the Old Man, and broke the seal, and
+read--
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+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.'
+
+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?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'And you are happy, Jehane?'
+
+She sighed, ever so lightly. 'I should be happy, my lord. But sometimes,
+even now, I think of King Richard, and pray for him.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Well, Joy of my Joy?'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+Jehane looked at him in wonder, startled out of confusion of face.
+
+'Do you know more of him than I do, sire?' she asked, with a quick
+heart.
+
+'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.'
+
+Jehane sighed, and wrought with her fingers in her lap. 'If it must be,
+sire--'
+
+'Why, of course it must be,' said the Old Man briskly.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE CHAPTER CALLED CHALUZ
+
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+'Here is an empery come out against us!' cried Adhémar. 'If I was not
+right when I told you that I knew King Richard.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Come down, Saint-Pol,' he would say, 'and dance with Limoges.'
+
+'When I come down, sire,' the answer would be, 'there will be no dancing
+in your host.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'By my soul,' said Richard back again, 'a little more of this bold gut
+of thine, my man, and I let thee go free.'
+
+'Sire,' said Saint-Pol soberly, 'that were the worst of all.'
+
+'How so, boy?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'By God, Eustace,' says Gilles, 'that I will not.'
+
+'Why not, then?'
+
+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.'
+
+'Pouf!' said Saint-Pol; but he was of the same mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Wait,' said Savaric. 'Where away now?
+
+'To bandy gibes with Saint-Pol, pardieu. Where else should he go at this
+hour?'
+
+'Saint-Pol will never do him a villainy,' said Savaric.
+
+'No, no. But De Gurdun is there.'
+
+'Wait now,' says Savaric again. 'Look, look! Who comes out of the
+smoke?'
+
+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.
+
+'Some camp-thief making off--'
+
+'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.
+
+'That is strange warfare,' said Des Barres, greatly interested.
+
+'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.
+
+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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'Who is that dead man of yours over there?' asked Des Barres.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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?'
+
+'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?'
+
+'They must be found,' said Des Barres, and sent out Savaric with half of
+his men.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE KEENING
+
+
+In the wan hours left to him came three women, one after another, and
+spoke the truth so far as they knew it each.
+
+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.
+
+'Take her away,' he said in a whisper; so Des Barres stood up between
+him and the woman.
+
+But Alois put her hands out, as a blind man does.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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?'
+
+She said, 'Thy brother John of Mortain was that man. A villain is he.'
+
+A moaning sigh escaped the King, long-drawn, shuddering, very piteous.
+'Eh, Alois, Alois! Which of us four was not a villain?'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+'Madame, the King sleeps,' they told her.
+
+'I go to pray for him,' said the Queen, and went in.
+
+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.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+'Who is here?' he whispered. 'Not--?'
+
+'No, no, dearest lord,' said Milo quickly. 'But the Queen is here.'
+
+'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.
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+'Well, my girl, well,' he said, 'thou art in good time. What of the
+lad?'
+
+'He is here, Richard.'
+
+'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.
+
+'This is thy father, boy.'
+
+'I know it, ma'am,' says young Fulke, and knelt down by the bed. King
+Richard put his hand on his head.
+
+'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.'
+
+'He will never make me a great king, sire,' says Fulke.
+
+'He can make thee better than that,' said his father.
+
+'I think not,' answered Fulke. 'You are the greatest king in the whole
+world, sire. The Old Man of Musse said it.'
+
+'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.
+
+The King signed to Jehane to bend down her head. So she did, and even
+thus could barely hear him.
+
+'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.
+
+'I shall go back to my husband and children, dear one. I have left three
+behind me, all sons.'
+
+'Are they good to thee? Art thou happy?'
+
+'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.'
+
+'There is one more thing for thee to give me, my Jehane.' She smiled
+pityingly.
+
+'Why, what is left to give, Richard?' He said in her ear, 'Our boy
+Fulke.'
+
+'Ah,' said Jehane. The Queen was now watching her intently between her
+hands.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.
+
+The young man was brought in by Des Barres, in chains. Jehane, now
+behind Richard's head, lifted him up in her arms.
+
+'Knock off those fetters,' says the King. Saint-Pol was free.
+
+'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?'
+
+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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+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.'
+
+'Oh, sire! oh, sire!' cried Saint-Pol; but Jehane looked at her brother.
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.'
+
+'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.
+
+'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!'
+
+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?'
+
+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.
+
+'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.
+
+The King's eyes were almost gone; certainly he could not see out of
+them. They understood his moving lips, 'A sponge, quick.'
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+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.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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.
+
+'The King died in peace, my lord,' she said, 'and I have peace because
+of that.'
+
+'Thy children shall call thee blessed, my beloved, as I call thee.'
+
+'The prophecy of the leper was not fulfilled, sir,' says Jehane.
+
+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.'
+
+Then Jehane went in to her children, and other duties which her station
+required of her.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE OF THE ABBOT MILO
+
+
+'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.
+
+'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.
+
+'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: _Illi
+Mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi_. But
+King Richard knew himself in those last keen hours, and (as we believe)
+won forgiveness of God.
+
+'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.
+
+'UPON WHOSE TWO SOULS, JESU, HAVE MERCY!'
+
+
+EXPLICIT
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life and Death of Richard
+Yea-and-Nay, by Maurice Hewlett
+
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