de. All men of the sword come to it sooner
or later--sooner or later, by God!'

Hereupon Richard, very deliberately, rose to his feet and stepped
forward to the throne. His great height was a crowning abomination. The
King blinked up at him, showing his tushes.

'What now, sir?' he said.

'Later for me, sire, if kneeling is to be done by soldiers,' said
Richard. The King controlled himself by swallowing.

'And yet, Richard,' he said, dry as dust, 'And yet, Richard, you have
knelt to the French lad soon enough.'

'To my liege-lord, sire? Yes, it is true.'

'He is not your liege-lord, man,' roared the King. 'I am your
liege-lord, by heaven. I gave and I can take away. Heed me now.'

'Fair sire,' says Richard, 'observe that I have knelt to you. I am not
here for any other reason, and least of all to try conclusions of the
voice. I have come out of my lands with my company to give you
obedience. Be sure that they, on their part, will pay you proper honour
(as I do) if you will let them.'

'You come from lands I have given you, as Henry came, as Geoffrey came,
to defy me,' said the old man, trembling in his chair. 'What is your
obedience worth when I have measured theirs: Henry's obedience!
Geoffrey's obedience! Pish, man, what words you use.' He got up and
stamped about the tent like an irritable dwarf, crook-legged and
long-armed, pricked, maddened at every point. 'And you tell me of your
men, your lands, your company! Good men all, a fair company, by the Rood
of Grace! Tell me now, Richard, have you Raimon of Toulouse in that
company? Have you Beziers?'

'No, sire,' said Richard, looking serenely down at the working face.

'Nor ever will have,' snarled the King. 'Have you the Knight of Bearn?'

'I have, sire.'

'Ill company, Richard. It is a white-faced, lying beast, with a most
goatish beard. Have you your singing monk?'

'I have, sire.'

'Shameful company. Have you Adhemar of Limoges?'

'Yes, sire.'

'Silly company. Leave him with his women. Have you your Abbot Milo?'

'Yes.'

'Sick company.' His head sank into his breast; he found himself suddenly
tired, even of reviling, and had to sit down again. Richard felt a tide
of pity; looking down at the huddled old man, he held out his hand.

'Let us not quarrel, father,' he said; but that brought up the King's
head, like a call to arms.

'A last question, Richard. Have you dared bring here Bertran de Born?'
He was on his feet again for the reply, an