ed the room incessantly, and at every second or third turn
brought up short by the bed. Sometimes he flashed up his long knife; it
always stayed the length of his arm, then flapped down to his flank in
dejection. 'If he wakes not I must go away. I cannot do it so,' he told
himself, as finally he sat down by the wall. It grew dusk. He was tired,
sick, giddy; his head dropped, he slept. When he woke up, as with a
snort he did, it was inky dark. Now was the time, not even God could
see him now. He turned himself about; inch by inch he crept forward,
edging along by the bed's edge. Painfully he got on his knees, threw up
his head. 'Jehane, my robbed lost soul!' he howled, and stabbed with all
his might. King Richard, cat-like behind him, caught him by the hair,
and cuffed his ears till they sang.

'Ah, dastard cur! Ah, mongrel! Ah, white-galled Norman eft! God's feet,
if I pommel you for this!' Pommel him he did; and, having drawn blood at
his ears, he turned him over his knee as if he had been a schoolboy, and
lathered his rump with a chair-leg. This humiliating punishment had
humiliating effects. Gilles believed himself a boy in the
cloister-school again, with his smock up. 'Mea culpa, mea culpa! Hey,
reverend father, have pity!' he began to roar. Dropping him at last,
Richard tumbled him on to the bed. 'Blubber yourself to sleep, clown,'
he told him. 'Blessed ass, I have heard you snoring these two hours,
snoring and rootling over your jack-knife. Sleep, man. But if you rootle
again I flog again: mind you that.' Gilles slept long, and was awoken in
full light by the sound of King Richard calling for his breakfast.

The gaoler came pale-faced in. 'A thousand pardons, sire, a thousand
pardons--'

'Bring my food, Dietrich,' says Richard, 'and send the barber. Also, the
next time the Archduke desires murder done let him find a fellow who
knows his trade. This one is a bungler. Here's the third time to my
knowledge he has missed. Off with you.'

Gilles lay face downwards, abject on the bed. In came the King's
breakfast, a jug of wine, some white bread. The King's beard was
trimmed, his hair brushed, fresh clothes put on. He dismissed his
attendants, crossed over the room like a stalking cat, and gave Gilles a
clap behind which made him leap in the air.

'Get up, Gurdun,' said Richard. 'Tell me that you are ashamed of
yourself, and then listen to me.'

Gilles went down on one knee. 'God knows, my lord King,' he mumbled,