The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91, Maurice Hewlett [beautiful books to read .TXT] 📗

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!"

 

Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 14 (Of What King Richard Said To The Bowing Rood And What Jehane To King Richard) Pg 78

'"'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

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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

Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 14 (Of What King Richard Said To The Bowing Rood And What Jehane To King Richard) Pg 80

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