he murder of some man of his, or an ambush which
cost him a score. Thieving was a courtesy, raiding an amenity in a
Grifon, it appeared. Richard, hoping yet for the dowry and a peaceful
departing, had laid a strict command that no harm should be done to any
one of them unless he should be caught bloody-handed. 'Well and good!'
writes Milo; 'but this meant to say that no man might scratch himself
for fear he should kill a louse.' Nature could not endure such a
direction, so Richard then (whose own temper was none of the longest)
let himself go, fell upon a party of these brigands, put half to the
sword and hanged the other half in rows before the landward gate of
Messina. You will say that this did not advance his treaty with King
Tancred; but in a sense it did. When the Messenians came out of their
gates to attack him in open field, it was found and reported by Gaston
of Bearn, who drove them in with loss, that William des Barres and the
Count of Saint-Pol had been with them, each heading a company of
knights. Richard flew into a royal, and an Angevin, rage. He swore by
God's back that he would bring the walls flat; and so he did. 'This is
the work of that little pale devil of France, then,' he said. 'A likely
beginning, by my soul! Now let me see if I can bring two kings to reason
at once.'

He used the argument of the long arm. Bringing up his engines from the
ships, he pounded the walls of Messina to such purpose that he could
have walked in barefoot in two or three places. King Tancred came in
person to sue for peace; but Richard wanted more than dowry by this
time. 'The peace you shall have,' he said, 'is the peace of God which
passeth understanding, and for which, I take it, you are not yet ready,
unless you bring hither with you Philip of France.' This the unfortunate
Tancred really could not do; but he did bring proxies of Philip's.
Saint-Pol came, Des Barres, and the Bishop of Beauvais with his russet,
soldier's face. King Richard sat considering these worthy men.

'Ah, now, Saint-Pol, you are playing a good part in this Christian
adventure, I think!' he broke out after a time. Saint-Pol squared his
jaw. 'If I had caught you in your late sally, my friend,' Richard went
on, 'I should have hanged you on a tree, knight or no knight. Why, fool,
do you think your shameful brother worth so much treachery? With him
before your eyes can you do no better? I hope so. Get you back, and tell
King Philip this: He and I are