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devoted of the followers of King Richard were wounded badly, some few to

death. Among these last, to the terrible grief of Cuthbert, was his

friend and patron, the Earl of Evesham. The king, on taking off his

armour, hurried to his tent.

"The glory of this day is marred indeed," he said to the wounded knight,

"if I am to lose you, Sir Walter."

"I fear that it must even be so, my lord," the dying earl said. "I am

glad that I have seen this day, for never did I think to witness such

feats as those which your Majesty has performed; and though the crusade

has failed, and the Holy City remains in the hands of the infidel, yet

assuredly no shadow of disgrace has fallen upon the English arms, and,

indeed, great glory has accrued to us. Whatever may be said of the Great

Crusade, it will, at least, be allowed by all men, and for all time, that

had the princes and soldiers of other nations done as your Majesty and

your followers have done, the holy city would have fallen into our hands

within a month of our putting foot upon the soil. Your Majesty, I have a

boon to ask."

"You have but to name it, Sir Walter, and it is yours."

"Sir Cuthbert, here," he said, pointing to the young knight, who was

sorrowfully kneeling by his bedside, "is as a son to me. The relationship

by blood is but slight, but by affection it is as close as though he were

mine own. I have, as your Majesty knows, no male heirs, and my daughter

is but young, and will now be a royal ward. I beseech your Majesty to

bestow her in marriage, when the time comes, upon Sir Cuthbert. They have

known each other as children, and the union will bring happiness,

methinks, to both, as well as strength and protection to her; and

further, if it might be, I would fain that you should bestow upon him my

title and dignity."

"It shall be so," the king said. "When your eyes are closed, Sir Walter,

Sir Cuthbert shall be Earl of Evesham, and, when the time comes, the

husband of your daughter."

Cuthbert was too overwhelmed with grief to feel a shadow of exaltation at

the gracious intimation of the king; although, even then, a thought of

future happiness in the care of the fair young lady Margaret passed

before his mind. For the last time the king gave his hand to his faithful

servant, who pressed it to his lips, and a few minutes afterwards

breathed his last.

CHAPTER XVII.

AN ALPINE STORM.

The tremendous exertions which King Richard had made told upon him, and

attacks of fever succeeded each other at short intervals. This, however,

mattered the less, since negotiations were now proceeding between him and

Saladin. It was impossible, with the slight means at his disposal, for

Richard further to carry on the crusade alone. Moreover, pressing news

had arrived from his mother in England, urging him to return, as his

brother John was intriguing against him, and had already assumed all but

the kingly tide. Saladin was equally desirous of peace. His wild troops

were, for the most part, eager to return to their homes, and the defeats

which they had suffered, and the, to them, miraculous power of King

Richard's arm, had lowered their spirit and made them eager to be away.

Therefore he consented without difficulty to the terms proposed. By

these, the Christians were to surrender Ascalon, but were to keep Jaffa,

Tyre, and the fortresses along the coast. All hostilities were to be

suspended on both sides for the space of three years, three months, three

weeks, three days, and three hours, when Richard hoped to return again

and to recommence the struggle.

Between the sultan and King Richard a feeling approaching that of

friendship had sprung up during the campaign. Saladin was himself brave

in the extreme, and exposed his life as fearlessly as did his Christian

rival, and the two valiant leaders recognized the great qualities of each

other. Several times during the campaign, when Richard had been ill, the

emir had sent him presents of fruit and other matters, to which Richard

had responded in the same spirit. An interview had taken place between

them which further cemented their friendship; and when Richard promised

to return again at the end of the truce with a far larger army, and to

accomplish the rescue of the holy city, the sultan smiled, and said that

it appeared that valour alone was not sufficient to conquer in the Holy

Land, but that if Jerusalem were to fall into the hands of the

Christians, it could fall into no worthier hands than those of Malek-Rik.

So, with many mutual courtesies, the great rivals separated, and, soon

after, King Richard and the little remnant of his army embarked on board

ship, and set sail for England.

It was on the 11th of October, 1192, that Richard Coeur de Lion left

Palestine. Soon after they started, a storm suddenly burst upon them,

and dispersed them in various directions. The ship in which Queen

Berengaria was carried, arrived safely in Sicily; but that in which King

Richard was borne was missing, and none of his fellow-voyagers knew what

had become of him.

Sir Cuthbert was in the same vessel as the king, and the bark was driven

upon the Island of Corfu. All reached shore in safety, and King Richard

then hired three small vessels, in which he sailed to the port of Zara,

whence he hoped to reach the domains of his nephew, Otho of Saxony, the

son of his sister Matilda. The king had with him now but two of his

knights, Baldwin of B,thune, and Cuthbert of Evesham. Cnut was with his

feudal chief--for such Cuthbert had now, by his accession to the rank of

Earl of Evesham, become--and three or four English archers.

"I fear, my lords," the king said to his knights as he sat in a little

room in an inn at Zara, "that my plight is a bad one. I am surrounded by

enemies, and, alas! I can no longer mount my steed and ride out as at

Jaffa to do battle with them. My brother, John Lackland, is scheming to

take my place upon the throne of England. Philip of France, whose mind is

far better at such matters than at setting armies in the field, is in

league with him. The Emperor Henry has laid claim to the throne of

Sicily. Leopold of Austria has not forgiven me the blow I struck him in

the face at Ascalon, and the friends of Conrad of Montferat are spreading

far and wide the lie that I was the instigator of his murder. Sure never

had a poor king so many enemies, and few have ever had so small a

following as I have now. What think you, my lords? What course would you

advise that I should adopt? If I can reach Saxony, doubtless Otho will

aid me. But hence to Dresden is a long journey indeed. I have neither

credit nor funds to hire a ship to take us by sea. Nor would such a

voyage be a safe one, when so many of my enemies' ships are on the main.

I must needs, I think, go in disguise, for my way lies wholly through the

country of my enemies."

"Surely," Cuthbert said, "no potentate could for very shame venture to

detain your Majesty on your way from the Holy Land, where you have

wrought such great deeds. Were I in your place, I would at once proclaim

myself, mount my horse, have my banner carried before me, and ride openly

on. You have, too, another claim, namely, that of being shipwrecked, and

even in war-time nations respect those whom the force of God has thrown

upon their shores."

"I fear me, Sir Cuthbert," Sir Baldwin said, "that you overrate the

chivalry of our master's enemies. Had we been thrown on the shores of

France, Philip perhaps would hesitate to lay hands upon the king; but

these petty German princelings have no idea of the observances of true

chivalry. They are coarse and brutal in their ways; and though in outward

form following the usages of knighthood, they have never been penetrated

with its spirit. If the friends of Conrad of Montferat lay hands upon

King Richard, I fear that no scruples will prevent them from using their

advantage to the utmost. Even their emperor I would not trust. The course

which you advise would no doubt be in accordance with the spirit of King

Richard; but it would be madness for him to judge other people's spirit

by his own, and it would be rushing into the lion's den to proclaim

himself here. I should recommend, if I might venture to do so, that his

Majesty should assume a false name, and that we should travel in small

parties so as to attract no attention, each making his way to Saxony as

best he may."

There was silence for a minute or two, and then the king with a

sigh, said,--

"I fear that you are right, Sir Baldwin, and that there is no chivalry

among these swinish German lords. You shall accompany me. Not, Sir

Cuthbert," he observed kindly, noticing a look of disappointment upon the

face of the young knight, "that I estimate your fidelity one whit lower

than that of my brave friend; but he is the elder and the more versed in

European travel, and may manage to bring matters through better than you

would do. You will have dangers enough to encounter yourself, more even

than I shall, for your brave follower, Cnut, can speak no language but

his own, and your archers will be hard to pass as any other than what

they are. You must be my messenger to England, should you arrive there

without me. Tell my mother and wife where you left me, and that, if I do

not come home I have fallen into the hands of one or other of my bitter

foes. Bid them bestir themselves to hold England for me against my

brother John, and, if needs be, to move the sovereigns of Europe to free

me from the hands of my enemies. Should a ransom be needed, I think that

my people of England will not grudge their goods for their king."

The following day the king bade farewell to his faithful followers,

giving his hand to kiss, not only to Sir Cuthbert, but to Cnut and

his archers.

"You have done me brave service," he said, "and I trust may yet have

occasion to do it again. These are bad times when Richard of England has

nought wherewith to reward his friends. But," he said, taking a gold

chain from his neck and breaking it with his strong fingers into five

fragments, "that is for you, Cnut, and for your four archers, in

remembrance of King Richard."

The men, albeit hardened by many scenes of warfare, yet shed tears

plenteously at parting with the king.

"We had better," Cuthbert said to them when they were alone, "delay here

for a few days. If we are taken, the news that some Englishmen have been

captured making their way north from Zara will spread rapidly, and may

cause the enemies of Richard to be on the look-out for him, suspecting

that the ship which bore us may also have carried him; for the news that

he is missing will spread rapidly through Europe, and will set all his

enemies on the alert."

In accordance with this plan, they delayed for another ten days at Zara,

and then, hiring a small boat, were landed some thirty miles further

along the coast. Cuthbert had obtained for Cnut the dress of a palmer, as

in this he would pass almost unquestioned, and his silence might be

accounted for on the ground that he had taken a vow of silence. He

himself had placed on his coat and armour a red cross, instead of the

white cross borne by the English knights, and would now pass as a French

knight. Similar changes were made in the dress of his followers, and he

determined to pass as a French noble who had been wrecked on his way

home, and who was returning through Germany to France. The difficulties

in his own case would not be serious, as his French would pass muster

anywhere in Germany. The greatest difficulty would be with his

attendants; but he saw no way of avoiding this.

Cuthbert's object, when with his little party he separated from King

Richard, was to make his way to Verona, thence cross by Trent into

Bavaria, and so to journey to Saxony. Fortunately he had, at the storming

of Acre, become possessed of a valuable jewel, and this he now sold, and

purchased a charger for himself. He had little fear of any trouble in

passing through the north of Italy, for this was neutral ground, where

knights of all nations met, and where, neither as an English nor a French

crusader would he attract either comment or attention.

It was a slow journey across the northern plains, as of course he had to

accommodate his pace to that of his men. Cnut and the archers had

grumbled much at the change in the colour of the cross upon their

jerkins; and, as Cnut said, would have been willing to run greater perils

under their true colours than to affect to belong to any other

nationality. On their way they passed through Padua, and there stopped a

few days. Cuthbert could but feel, in looking at the splendour of this

Italian city, the courteous manner of its people, and the university

which was even then famous, how far in advance were those stately cities

of Italy to Western Europe. His followers were as much surprised as

himself at the splendour of the city. Here they experienced no trouble or

annoyance whatever, for to the cities of Italy knights of all nations

resorted, learned men came to study, philosophers to dispute, and as

these brought their attendants with them, you might in the streets of

Padua and its sister cities hear every language in Europe spoken.

From Padua they journeyed to Verona, marvelling greatly at the richness

of the country. The footmen, however, grumbled at the flatness of the

plain, and said that it was as bad as marching in the Holy Land. On

their right, however, the slopes of the Alps, thickly clad with forests,

reached down nearly to the road, and Cuthbert assured them that they

would have plenty of climbing before they had done. At Verona they

tarried again, and wondered much at the great amphitheatre, then almost

perfect. Cuthbert related to Cnut and the archers, how men had there

been set to fight, while the great stone benches round were thronged

with men and women looking on at their death struggles, and said that

not unfrequently British captives were brought hither and made to