sumptuous or royal character. Weapons offensive and defensive, several
of them of strange and newly-invented construction, were scattered about
the tented apartment, or disposed upon the pillars which supported it.
Skins of animals slain in the chase were stretched on the ground, or
extended along the sides of the pavilion; and upon a heap of
these silvan spoils lay three ALANS, as they were then called
(wolf-greyhounds, that is), of the largest size, and as white as snow.
Their faces, marked with many a scar from clutch and fang, showed their
share in collecting the trophies upon which they reposed; and their
eyes, fixed from time to time with an expressive stretch and yawn upon
the bed of Richard, evinced how much they marvelled at and regretted the
unwonted inactivity which they were compelled to share. These were but
the accompaniments of the soldier and huntsman; but on a small table
close by the bed was placed a shield of wrought steel, of triangular
form, bearing the three lions passant first assumed by the chivalrous
monarch, and before it the golden circlet, resembling much a ducal
coronet, only that it was higher in front than behind, which, with
the purple velvet and embroidered tiara that lined it, formed then the
emblem of England's sovereignty. Beside it, as if prompt for defending
the regal symbol, lay a mighty curtal-axe, which would have wearied the
arm of any other than Coeur de Lion.

In an outer partition of the pavilion waited two or three officers of
the royal household, depressed, anxious for their master's health, and
not less so for their own safety, in case of his decease. Their gloomy
apprehensions spread themselves to the warders without, who paced about
in downcast and silent contemplation, or, resting on their halberds,
stood motionless on their post, rather like armed trophies than living
warriors.

"So thou hast no better news to bring me from without, Sir Thomas!"
said the King, after a long and perturbed silence, spent in the feverish
agitation which we have endeavoured to describe. "All our knights turned
women, and our ladies become devotees, and neither a spark of valour nor
of gallantry to enlighten a camp which contains the choicest of Europe's
chivalry--ha!"

"The truce, my lord," said De Vaux, with the same patience with which
he had twenty times repeated the explanation--"the truce prevents us
bearing ourselves as men of action; and for the ladies, I am no great
reveller, as