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

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