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

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 1 (The Chaffer Called Mate Grifon) Pg 106

At Walking Pace. Nobody Moved Till He Was Out Of Sight. Then Said Des

Barres With A High Oath, 'I Could Serve That King If He Would Let Me.'

 

'God Damn Him,' Said Gilles De Gurdun For His Part.

 

It Was Near The End Of January When They Sighted Over Sea The Painted

Sails Of The Queen. Mother's Galley. Her Fleet Anchored In The Roads,

And The Lady Came Ashore. She Had Two Interviews, One With Her Son, One

With Jehane. But She Did Not Choose To See Her Daughter, Queen Joan, A

Very Handsome, Free Lady.

 

'Marriage!' Cried King Richard, When This Was Broached. 'This Is No Time

To Talk Of Marriage. I Have Waited Six Months, And Now The Lady Must

Wait A While, Other Six If Needs Be. We Leave This Accursed Island In

Two Days. Between My Friends And My Enemies I Have Fought The Length And

Breadth Of It Twice Over. Am I To Spend My Whole Host Killing

Christians? A Little More Inactivity, Good Mother, And I Shall Be In

League With The Soldan Against Philip. Bring The Lady To Acre, And I

Will Marry Her There.'

 

'No, No, Richard,' Said The Queen-Mother; 'I Am Needed In England. I

Cannot Come.'

 

'Then Let Joan Take Her,' Said The King.

 

The Queen-Mother, Knowing Him Very Well, Tried Him No Further. She Sent

For Jehane, And Held Her Close In Talk For Nearly An Hour.

 

'Never Leave My Son, Jehane,' Was The String She Harped On. 'Never Leave

Him For Good Or Ill Weather. Mated Or Unmated, Never Leave Him.'

 

'Never In Life, Madame,' Said Jehane, Then Bit Her Lip Lest She Should

Utter What Her Mind Was Full Of. But The Queen-Mother Had No Eyes.

 

'Pray For Him,' She Said; And Jehane, 'I Pray Hourly, Madame.' Then The

Queen Kissed Her On Both Cheeks, And In Such Kindness They Parted.

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 2 (Of What Jehane Looked For And What Berengère Had) Pg 107

Milo The Abbot Writes, 'When The Spring Airs, Moving Warmly Over The

Earth, Ruffled The Surface Of The Deep, And That To A Tune So Winning

That There Was No Thought Of The Treachery Below, We Took To The Ships

And Steered A Course South-East By South. This Was In The Quindenes Of

Easter. The Two Queens (If I May Call Them So, Of Whom One Had Been And

One Hoped To Be Of That Estate), Joan And Berengère, Went In A Great

Ship Which They Call A Dromond, A Heavy-Timbered Ship Carrying A Crowd

Of Sail. With Them, By Request Of Madame Berengère, Went Countess

Jehane, Not By Any Request Of Her Own. The King Himself Led Her Aboard,

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 2 (Of What Jehane Looked For And What Berengère Had) Pg 108

And By The Hand Into The State Pavilion On The Poop.

 

'"Madame," He Said To His Affianced, "I Bring You Your Desired Mate. Use

Her As You Would Use Me, For If I Have A Friend Upon Earth It Is She."

 

'"Oh, Sire," Says Berengère, "I Am Acquainted With This Lady. She Has

Nothing To Fear From Me."

 

'Queen Joan Said Nothing, Being Afraid Of Her Brother. So Madame Jehane

Kissed The Hands Of The Pair Of Queens, Meekly Kneeling To Each In Turn;

And So Far As I Know She Did Them Faithful Service Through All The

Mischances Of A Voyage Whereon Every Woman And Every Other Man Was

Horribly Sick.

 

'Having Made The Pharos In Favourable Weather, And Kept Mount Gibello

And The Wild Calabrian Coast Upon Our Lee (As Is Fitting), We Stood Out

For The Straight Course Over The Immense Waste Of Water. Now Was No More

Land To Be Seen At Either Hand; But The Sky Fitted Close Upon The Edges

Of The Sea Like A Dome Of Glass On A Man's Forehead. There Was Neither

Cover From The Sun Nor Hiding-Place From The Prying Concourse Of The

Stars; The Wind Came Searchingly, The Waters Stirred Beneath It, Or,

Being Driven, Heaped Themselves Up Into Towers Of Ruin. The Cordage

Flacked, The Strong Ribs Creaked; Like A Beast Over-Burdened The Whole

Ship Groaned, Wallowing In A Sea-Trough Without Breath To Climb. So We

Endured For Many Days, A Straggling Host Of Men, Ordinarily Capable,

Powerless Now Beneath That Dumb Tyrant The Sky. Where Else Could Be Our

Refuge? We All Looked To King Richard--By Day To His Royal Ensign, By

Night To The Great Wax Candle Which He Always Had Lighted And Stuck In A

Lantern. His Commands Were Shouted From Ship To Ship Over Two Miles Or

More Of Sea; If Any Strayed Or Dropped Behind We Lay-To That He Might

Come Up. But Very Often, After A Day's Idle Rolling, We Knew That The

Sea Had Claimed Some Boatload Of Our Poor Souls, And Went On. The

Galleys Kept Touch With The Dromonds, Enclosing Them (As It Were) Within

The Cusps Of A New Moon, And So Driving Them Forward. To See This Light

Of Our King's Moving, Now Fast, Now Slow, Now Up, Now Down, Restlessly

Over The Field Of The Night, Was To Remember The God Of The Israelites,

Who (For Their Sakes And Ours) Became A Pillar Of Fire At That Season,

And Transformed Himself Into A Tall Cloud In The Daytime. Busy As It

Was, This Point Of Light, It Only Figured The Unresting Spirit Of The

King, Careful Of All These Children Of His, Ordering The Hosts Of The

Lord.

 

'Storms Drove Us At Length On To The Island Of Crete, Where Minos Once

Had His Kingly Habitation, And His Wife Died Of Pleasure. Again They

Drove Us, More Unfortunately, Out Of Our Course Upon The Inhospitable

Coasts Of Rhodes, Where The Salt Wind Suffers No Trees To Live, Nor Safe

Anchorage To Be, Nor Shelter From The Ravage Of The Sea. In This Vexed

Place There Was No Sign Of Land But A Long Line Of Surf Beating Upon A

Rocky Shore, The Mist Of Spray And Blown Sand, Spars Of Drowned Ships,

Innumerable Anxious Flocks Of Birds. Here Was No Roadstead For Us; Yet

Here, But For The Signal Providence Of Heaven, We Had Likely All Have

Perished (As Many Did Perish), Miserably Failing At Once Of Purpose, The

Sacraments Of Christ, And Reasonable Beds. The Fleet Was Scattered Wide,

No Ship Could See His Neighbour; We Called On The King, On The Saviour,

On The Father Of All. But Deep Answered To Deep, And The Prayer Of So

Many Christians, As It Appeared, Skilled Little To Change The Eternal

Purposes Of God.

 

'Then One Inspired Among Us Climbed Up To The Masthead, Having In His

Teeth A Piece Of The True Cross Set In A Silver Heart; And Called Aloud

To The Wild Weather, "Save, Lord, We Perish!" As Was Said Of Old By Very

Sacred Persons. To Which Palpable Truth So Urgently Declared An Answer

Was Vouchsafed, Not Indeed According To Our Full Desires, Yet

Volume 91 Book 2 (The Book Of Nay) Chapter 2 (Of What Jehane Looked For And What Berengère Had) Pg 109

(Doubtless) Level With Our Deserts. The Wind Veered To The North; And

Though It Abated Nothing Of Its Force, Preserved Us From The Teeth Of

The Rocks. Before It Now, Under Bare Poles, Without Need Of Oars, We

Drove To The Southward; And While A Little Light Still Endured Descried

A Great Mountainous And Naked Coast Rising Out Of The Heaped Waters,

Which We Knew To Be The Land Of Cyprus. Off The Western Face Of This

Dark Shore, In A Little Shelter At Last, We Lay-To And Tossed All Night.

Next Day In Fairer Weather, Hoisting Sail, We Made A Good Haven Defended

By Stout Sea-Walls, A Mole And Two Lighthouses: These Were Of A City

Called Limasol. Upon My Galley, At Least, There Was One Who Sang _Lauda

Sion_, Whose Tune Before Had Been _Adhæsit Pavimento_, When He Rested

Tired Eyes Upon The Clustered Spires Of A White City, Smokeless And

Asleep In The Early Morning Light.'

 

So Far Without Weariness I Hope Milo May Have Conducted The Reader. In

Relation To The Sea You May Take Him For An Expert In The Terrors He

Describes. Not So In Cyprus. War Tempts Him To Prolixity, To Classical

Allusion, Even To Hexameters Of Astonishingly Loose Joints. Every Stroke

Of His Hero's Sword-Arm Seems To Him Of Weight. No Doubt It Was, Once;

But Not In A Chronicle Of This Sort, Where The Cypriote Gests Must Take

A Lowly Place Among Others Fair And Foul Of This King-Errant. Let Me Put

Milo On The Shelf For A Little, And Abridge.

 

I Tell You Then That The Emperor Of Cyprus, By Name Isaac, Was A

Thin-Faced Man With High Cheek-Bones. A Greek Of The Greeks, He

Undervalued What He Had Never Seen, Precisely For That Reason. When

Heralds Went Up To Nikosia To Announce The Coming-In Of King Richard,

Isaac Mumbled His Lips. 'Prutt!' He Said, 'I Am The Emperor. What Have I

To Do With Your Kings?' Richard Showed Him That With One King He Had

Plenty To Do, By Assaulting Limasol And Putting Armies To Flight In The

Plains About Nikosia. Shall I Sing The Battle Of The Fifty Against Five

Thousand; Tell How King Richard With Precisely Half A Hundred Knights

Came Cantering Against The Sun And A Host, As Gay And Debonair As To A

Driving Of Stags? They Say That He Himself Led The Charge, Covered In A

Wonderful Silken Surcoat, Colour Of A Bullfinch's Breast, And Wrought

Upon In Black And White Heraldry. They Say That At The Sight Of The

Pensils A-Flutter, At The Sound Of The Hunting-Horns, The Grifons Let

Fly A Shaft A-Piece; Then Threw Down Their Bows And Scattered. But The

Knights Caught Them. Isaac Was On A