, whom they call Old
Man of Musse."

'"Why did you go, monk?" he asked, and felt about for his sword, but
could not find it. Yet it was close by. I said, "Sire, because of a
report which had reached the ears of Madame that the Marquess and the
Old Man were in league to have you murdered." To this he made no reply,
except to call me a fool. Later he asked, "How died the Marquess?"

'"Sire," I answered, "most miserably. He went up Lebanon to see the Old
Man, and came presently down again with two of the Assassins in his
company, but none of his train. These persons, being near his city of
Sidon, at a signal agreed upon stabbed him with their long knives, then
cut off his right hand and despatched it to the Old Man by one of them.
The other stayed by the corpse, and was so found peacefully sleeping,
and burned."

'The King said nothing, but gave me money and a little jewel he used to
wear, as if I had done him a service. Then he nodded a dismissal, and I,
wondering, left him. He did not speak to me again for many weeks.'

* * * * *

You may collect that Richard was very ill. He was. The disease of his
mind fed fat upon the disease of his body, and from the spoils of the
feast savagery reared its clotted head. Syrian mothers still quell
their children with the name of Melek Richard, a reminiscence of the
dreadful time when he was without ruth or rest. He spoke of his purposes
to none, listened to none. The Bishop of Sarum had come in with a budget
of disastrous news: Count John had England under his heel, Philip of
France had entered Normandy in force, the lords of Aquitaine were in
revolt. If God had no use for him in the East, here was work to do in
the West. But had He none? What of Joppa, shuddering under the sword?
What of Acre, where the French army wallowed in sloth, with two queens
at its mercy and Saint-Pol in the mercy-seat? What, indeed, of Jehane?

Nobody breathed her name; yet night and day the image of her floated,
half-hid in scarlet clouds, before King Richard. These clouds, a torn
regiment, raced across his vision, like cavalry broken, in mad retreat.
Out of the tumbled mass two hands would throw up, white, long, thin
hands, Jehane's hands drowned in frothy blood. Then, in his waking
dream, when he drove in the spurs and started to save, the colours
changed, black swam over the blood; and one hand only would stay, held
up warningly, saying, 'Forbear, I am separate, fence