in these English! But their timid counsel suits not
us. Happy should I be if the Christian army were purged of the English
tails!'

A flush of rage crimsoned the earl's bronzed cheek, and his eye flashed
fire.

'Now, by my father's sword!' cried he, striving to be calm, though he
literally quivered with indignation, 'this passes human patience! Ho!
there, Lord Robert de Vere, raise my banner; and you, Count of Artois,
lead on, and see if the danger of death hinders us from following. The
touchstone must try which is gold and which is brass; and I swear, by
good St. George, as I put on my helmet, that the English knights whom
you have taunted with cowardice will this day penetrate farther in the
ranks of our foes than any warrior of France--be he prince or
paladin--will venture to do.'

And the dispute having there been terminated, the Count of Artois and
his Crusaders put on their helmets and mounted their horses. At that
moment the eye of Salisbury alighted on Walter Espec; and his
countenance, which had expressed the most scornful indignation, suddenly
changed, and expressed something like pity.

'Boy,' said he, in a low, kindly tone, 'fall back and wait for the
French king. We are rushing on certain death; and you are too young to
die.'

'Nay, my good lord,' replied Walter, calmly. 'A man, whether young or
old, can die but once: I would rather fall fighting in the cause of our
Redeemer, and under your banner, than in a less holy cause and in meaner
company.'

'As you will,' said the earl. 'It shall never be told that I prevented
knight or squire from dying the death of a martyr.'

'By the might of Mary! Master Espec,' whispered Bisset; the English
knight, 'were I your age, and had my choice, certes, I should think
twice ere hazarding life against such odds. Wherefore should you fall a
victim to the madness of my Lord of Artois, or the pride of my Lord of
Salisbury?'

'On my faith, I know not,' answered Walter, smiling. 'But this I do
know, that a man can die but once, and that a Christian warrior who
falls with the Cross on his shoulder is understood to win the crown of
martyrdom.'

'Nevertheless, were I you, and of your years,' argued Bisset; 'I should
little relish the notion of being killed; for, as the Saracens say, when
man dies there is no hope of his living again; because, as they add
truly, man is not a water-melon; when once in the ground he cannot grow
again.'

By this time French and Templar