xpectation, the Scottish knight had suddenly returned to the Crusaders'
camp. But De Vaux was influenced only by his general prejudices,
which dictated to him the assured belief that a wily Italian priest,
a false-hearted Scot, and an infidel physician, formed a set of
ingredients from which all evil, and no good, was likely to be
extracted. He resolved, however, to lay his scruples bluntly before
the King, of whose judgment he had nearly as high an opinion as of his
valour.

Meantime, events had taken place very contrary to the suppositions which
Thomas de Vaux had entertained. Scarce had he left the royal pavilion,
when, betwixt the impatience of the fever, and that which was natural
to his disposition, Richard began to murmur at his delay, and express
an earnest desire for his return. He had seen enough to try to reason
himself out of this irritation, which greatly increased his bodily
malady. He wearied his attendants by demanding from them amusements, and
the breviary of the priest, the romance of the clerk, even the harp of
his favourite minstrel, were had recourse to in vain. At length, some
two hours before sundown, and long, therefore, ere he could expect
a satisfactory account of the process of the cure which the Moor or
Arabian had undertaken, he sent, as we have already heard, a messenger
commanding the attendance of the Knight of the Leopard, determined to
soothe his impatience by obtaining from Sir Kenneth a more particular
account of the cause of his absence from the camp, and the circumstances
of his meeting with this celebrated physician.

The Scottish knight, thus summoned, entered the royal presence as one
who was no stranger to such scenes. He was scarcely known to the King
of England, even by sight, although, tenacious of his rank, as devout in
the adoration of the lady of his secret heart, he had never been absent
on those occasions when the munificence and hospitality of England
opened the Court of its monarch to all who held a certain rank in
chivalry. The King gazed fixedly on Sir Kenneth approaching his bedside,
while the knight bent his knee for a moment, then arose, and stood
before him in a posture of deference, but not of subservience or
humility, as became an officer in the presence of his sovereign.

"Thy name," said the King, "is Kenneth of the Leopard--from whom hadst
thou degree of knighthood?"

"I took it from the sword of William the Lion, King of Scotland,"
replied the Scot.