vain his brazen kettle-drums and trumpets called to the
flying infidels. The battle was lost, and the defeated sultan sadly
retreated before the exultant Christians.

After this famous victory, Richard marched to Jaffa, where the army
encamped in a fair olive orchard, and there abode some time in peace and
plenty. Richard sailed to Acre, where he stirred up slothful pilgrims
and entreated them to join his army at Jaffa for the march to Jerusalem.
On his return, he brought with him Queen Berengaria and Joan. While
waiting for recruits to the army, Richard occupied his time in
excursions around Jaffa, and met with many romantic adventures.

One day he rode out with his falcons and a few knights to hunt, and also
to spy on the Turks. When tired out by the chase, he lay down in the
shade and fell asleep. Some Turks, hearing that he was thus off guard,
rode swiftly up, hoping to take the dreaded king prisoner. Richard and
his knights, roused by the noise of the hoof-beats, had barely time to
mount their horses when the Turks were upon them. Coeur-de-Lion and
his comrades met the attack fiercely; and the Turks, making a pretence
of flight, drew the little band into an ambush, where it was surrounded
by a great number of the infidels. Richard, in spite of his prowess,
would certainly have been taken prisoner, had not one of his comrades,
William de Preaux, called out, "I am the king; save my life!" The
Saracens, knowing no better, quickly seized the generous knight and
galloped off, thinking they had captured King Richard. The king, thus
saved, returned to his camp, where he found the army in great distress
over his reported capture.

Every effort was made to rescue William de Preaux, but in vain, and
there was universal sorrow for the knight who had purchased the safety
of the king by the sacrifice of his own freedom and the risk of his own
life. "O fealty worthy of all renown! O rare devotion! that a man should
willingly subject himself to danger to save another!" exclaims the
chronicler. Surely there must have been much that was fine and lovable
in the character of a king who called forth such rare devotion in a
follower,--one who was not a vassal of his own.

As soon as possible, the grateful Richard ransomed his friend by
exchanging ten noble Turkish captives for the brave French knight.

The king's friends now tried to persuade him to be more prudent and not
to expose himself so rashly to danger. But Coeur-de-Lion de