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

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.

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'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?'

 

''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

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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.

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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

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 14 (How The Leopard Was Loosed) Pg 183

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.