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

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

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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.

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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.

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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