The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91 by Maurice Hewlett (free books to read .txt) 📕

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.'

Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 17 (Frozen Heart And Red Heart: Cahors) Pg 100

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.

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 1 (The Chaffer Called Mate Grifon) Pg 101

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

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 1 (The Chaffer Called Mate Grifon) Pg 102

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.

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 1 (The Chaffer Called Mate Grifon) Pg 103

When He Came Back In October From The Second Of These, He Found Matters

Going Rather Ill.

 

King Tancred Avoided Seeing Him,