pounding at Richard as if he would ride over
him. At the battle-cry a swarm of fellows--Frenchmen and
Brabanters--came out and about with pikes. Richard was on his feet by
that time, perfectly advised what was astir. He was alone, but he had a
sword. This he drew, and took a stride or two towards Des Barres, who
had pulled up short of him, and was panting. The pikemen, who might have
hacked him to pieces, paused for another word. A second of time passed
without it, and Richard knew he was safe. He went up to Des Barres.

'Learn, Des Barres,' he said, 'that I allow no cries about my head save
those for Saint George.'

'Sire,' said Des Barres, 'I am no man of yours.'

'It is truly said,' replied Richard, 'but I will dub you one'; and he
smote him with the flat of his sword across the cheek. The blood leapt
after the sword.

'Soul of a virgin!' cried Des Barres, white as cloth, except for the
broad weal on his face.

'Your soul against mine, graceless dog,' said the King. 'Another word
and I pull you down.' Just then who should come riding out of the gate
but Gilles de Gurdun, armed cap-a-pie?

'Here, my lord,' said Des Barres, clearing his throat, 'comes a
gentleman who has sought your Grace with better cause than mine.'

'Who is your gentleman?' Richard asked him.

'It is De Gurdun, sire, a Norman knight whose name should be familiar.'

'I know him perfectly,' said Richard. He turned to one of the
bystanders, saying, 'Fetch that gentleman to me.' The man ran nimbly to
meet De Gurdun.

Des Barres, watching narrowly, saw Gilles start, saw him look, almost
saw the bracing of his nerves. What exactly followed was curious. Gilles
moved his horse forward slowly. King Richard, standing in leather
doublet and plumed cap, waited for him, his arms folded. Des Barres on
horseback, an enemy; the bystanders, tattered, savage, high-fed men,
enemies also; in front the most implacable enemy of all.

When De Gurdun was within spear-reach he stopped his horse and sat
looking at the King. Richard returned the look; it was an eyeing match,
soon over. Gurdun swung off the horse, threw the rein to a soldier, and
tried footing it. The steady duel of the eyes continued until Gilles was
actually within sword's distance. Here he stopped once more; finally
gave a queer little grunt, and went down on one knee. Des Barres sighed
as he eased his heart. The tension had been terrible.

Richard said, 'De Gurdun, stand up and answer me. Yo