ed not leave
her, nor the physicians either. And in the morning early she was
delivered of a child, a strong boy, and then lay back and slept
profoundly. Richard set two black women to fan the flies off her without
stopping once under pain of death; and having seen to the proper care of
the child and other things, returned alone through the blanching
streets, glorifying and praising God.

CHAPTER IV

CONCERNING THE TOWER OF FLIES, SAINT-POL, AND THE MARQUESS OF MONTFERRAT

In the church of Saint Lazarus of the Knights, on Lammas Day, the son of
Richard and Jehane was made a Christian by the Abbot of Poictiers.
Gossips were the Count of Champagne, the Earl of Leicester, and (by
proxy) the Queen-Mother. He was named Fulke.

At the moment of anointing the church-bell was rung; and at that moment
Gilles de Gurdun spat upon the pavement outside. Saint-Pol said to him,
'We must do better than that, Gilles.'

And Gilles, 'I pray God may spit him out.'

'Oh, He!' said Saint-Pol with a bitter laugh; 'He helps those who are
helpful of themselves.'

'I cannot help myself, Eustace,' said Gurdun. 'I have tried. I had him
unarmed before me at Messina, and he looked me down, and I could not do
it.'

'Have at his back, then.'

'I hope it may not come to that, said Gilles; 'and yet it may, if it
must.'

'Come with me to-night to the Tower of Flies,' said Saint-Pol. 'Here is
my shameful sister brought out of church. I cannot stay.'

'I stay,' said Gilles de Gurdun. King Richard came out of church, and
Jehane, and the child carried on a shield.

Jehane, who had much ado to walk without falling, saw not Gilles; but
Gilles saw her, and the red in his face took a tinge of black. While she
was before him he gaped at her, with a dry tongue clacking in his mouth,
consumed by a dreadful despair; but when she had passed by, swaying in
her weakness, barely able to hold up her lovely head, he lifted his face
to the white sky, and looked unwinking at the sun, wondering where else
an equal cruelty could abide. In this golden king, as cruel as the sun,
and as swift, and as splendid! Ah, dastard, dastard! At the minute
Gilles could have leapt at him and mauled the great shoulders with a
dog's weapons. There was no solace for him but to bite. So he dashed his
forearm into his face, and sluiced his teeth in that.

But King Richard of the high head mounted his horse in the churchyard,
and rode among the people before Jehane's bear