ters, whom troubadours hymned as La Belle. She
was married a long while ago, madame, to the King of England, Lord Henry,
third of that name to reign in these islands."

Dame Alianora's eyes were narrowing. "There is something in your voice,"
she said, "which I recall."

He answered: "Madame and Queen, that is very likely, for it is a voice
which sang a deal in Provence when both of us were younger. I concede
with the Roman that I have somewhat deteriorated since the reign of good
Cynara. Yet have you quite forgotten the Englishman who made so many
songs of you? They called him Osmund Heleigh."

"He made the Sestina of Spring which my father envied," the Queen said;
and then, with a new eagerness: "Messire, can it be that you are Osmund
Heleigh?" He shrugged assent. She looked at him for a long time, rather
sadly, and afterward demanded if he were the King's man or of the barons'
party. The nervous hands were raised in deprecation.

"I have no politics," he began, and altered it, gallantly enough, to, "I
am the Queen's man, madame."

"Then aid me, Osmund," she said; and he answered with a gravity which
singularly became him:

"You have reason to understand that to my fullest power I will aid you."

"You know that at Lewes these swine overcame us." He nodded assent.
"And now they hold the King my husband captive at Kenilworth. I am
content that he remain there, for he is of all the King's enemies the
most dangerous. But, at Wallingford, Leicester has imprisoned my son,
Prince Edward. The Prince must be freed, my Osmund. Warren de
Basingbourne commands what is left of the royal army, now entrenched at
Bristol, and it is he who must liberate him. Get me to Bristol, then.
Afterward we will take Wallingford." The Queen issued these orders in
cheery, practical fashion, and did not admit opposition into the account,
for she was a capable woman.

"But you, madame?" he stammered. "You came alone?"

"I come from France, where I have been entreating--and vainly
entreating--succor from yet another monkish king, the pious Lewis of that
realm. Eh, what is God about when He enthrones these cowards, Osmund?
Were I a king, were I even a man, I would drive these smug English out of
their foggy isle in three days' space! I would leave alive not one of
these curs that dare yelp at me! I would--" She paused, the sudden
anger veering into amusement. "See how I enrage myself when I think of
what your people have