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and each band, as it landed, marched down to the meeting-place on the

plains of Vezelay. Already they began to experience a taste of the

hardships which they were to endure.

In those days there was no regular supply train for an army, but each

division or band supported itself by purchase or pillage, as the case

might be, from the surrounding country.

As the English troops were marching through a friendly country, pillage

was of course strictly forbidden; but while many of the leaders paid for

all they had, it must be owned that among the smaller leaders were many

who took anything that they required with or without payment.

The country was eaten up.

The population in those days was sparse, and the movement of so large a

number of men along a certain route completely exhausted all the

resources of the inhabitants; and although willing to pay for all that

his men required, the Earl of Evesham had frequently to lie down on the

turf supperless himself.

"If this is the case now," he said to Cuthbert, "what will it be after we

have joined the French army? Methinks whatever we may do if we reach the

Holy Land, that we have a fair chance of being starved before we sail."

After a long succession of marches they arrived in sight of the great

camp at Vezelay. It was indeed rather a canvas town than a camp. Here

were gathered nearly 100,000 men, a vast host at any time, but in those

days far greater in proportion to the strength of the countries than at

present. The tents of the leaders, nobles, and other knights and

gentlemen, rose in regular lines, forming streets and squares.

The great mass of troops, however, were contented to sleep in the open

air; indeed the difficulties of carriage were so great that it was only

the leaders who could carry with them their canvas abodes. Before each

tent stood the lance and colours of its owner, and side by side in the

centre of the camp stood the royal pavilions of Phillip of France and

Richard of England, round which could be seen the gonfalons of all the

nobles of Western Europe.

Nothing could be gayer than the aspect of this camp as the party rode

into it. They were rather late, and the great body of the host were

already assembled.

Cuthbert gazed with delight at the varied colours, the gay dresses, the

martial knights, and the air of discipline and order which reigned

everywhere.

This was indeed war in its most picturesque form, a form which, as far as

beauty is concerned, has been altogether altered, and indeed destroyed,

by modern arms.

In those days individual prowess and bravery went for everything. A

handful of armoured knights were a match for thousands of footmen, and

battles were decided as much by the prowess and bravery of the leader and

his immediate following as by that of the great mass of the army.

The earl had the day before sent on a messenger to state that he was

coming, and as the party entered the camp they were met by a squire of

the camp-marshal, who conducted them to the position allotted to them.

The earl's tent was soon erected, with four or five grouped around it for

his knights, one being set aside for his squires and pages.

When this was done, Cuthbert strolled away to look at the varied sights

of the camp. A military officer in these days would be scandalized at the

scenes which were going on, but the strict, hard military discipline of

modern times was then absolutely unknown.

A camp was a moving town, and to it flocked the country people with their

goods; smiths and armourers erected their forges; minstrels and

troubadours flocked in to sing of former battles, and to raise the

spirits of the soldiers by merry lays of love and war; simple countrymen

and women came in to bring their presents of fowls or cakes to their

friends in camp; knights rode to and fro on their gaily caparisoned

horses through the crowd; the newly raised levies, in many cases composed

of woodmen and peasants who had not in the course of their lives wandered

a league from their birthplaces, gaped in unaffected wonder at the sights

around them; while last, but by no means least, the maidens and good

wives of the neighbourhood, fond then as now of brave men and gay

dresses, thronged the streets of the camp, and joined in, and were the

cause of, merry laughter and jest.

Here and there, a little apart from the main stream of traffic, the

minstrels would take up their position, and playing a gay air, the

soldier lads and lasses would fall to and foot it merrily to the strains.

Sometimes there would be a break in the gaiety, and loud shouts, and

perhaps fierce oaths, would rise. Then the maidens would fly like

startled fawns, and men hasten to the spot; though the quarrel might be

purely a private one, yet should it happen between the retainers of two

nobles, the friends of each would be sure to strike in, and serious frays

would arise before the marshal of the camp with his posse could arrive to

interfere. Sometimes indeed these quarrels became so serious and

desperate that alliances were broken up and great intentions frustrated

by the quarrels of the soldiery.

Here and there, on elevated platforms, or even on the top of a pile of

tubs, were friars occupied in haranguing the soldiers, and in inspiring

them with enthusiasm for the cause upon which they were embarked. The

conduct of their listeners showed easily enough the motives which had

brought them to war. Some stood with clasped hands and eager eyes

listening to the exhortations of the priests, and ready, as might be

seen from their earnest gaze, to suffer martyrdom in the cause. More,

however, stood indifferently round, or after listening to a few words

walked on with a laugh or a scoff; indeed preaching had already done all

that lay in its power. All those who could be moved by exhortations of

this kind were there, and upon the rest the discourses and sermons were

thrown away.

Several times in the course of his stroll round the camp Cuthbert

observed the beginnings of quarrels, which were in each case only checked

by the intervention of some knight or other person in authority coming

past, and he observed that these in every instance occurred between men

of the English and those of the French army.

Between the Saxon contingent of King Richard's army and the French

soldiers there could indeed be no quarrel, for the Saxons understood no

word of their language; but with the Normans the case was different, for

the Norman-French, which was spoken by all the nobles and their retainers

in Britain, was as nearly as possible the same as that in use in France.

It seemed, however, to Cuthbert, watching narrowly what was going on,

that there existed by no means a good feeling between the men of the

different armies; and he thought that this divergence so early in the

campaign boded but little good for the final success of the expedition.

When he returned to the tent the earl questioned him as to what he had

seen, and Cuthbert frankly acknowledged that it appeared to him that the

feeling between the men of the two armies was not good.

"I have been," the earl said, "to the royal camp, and from what I hear,

Cuthbert, methinks that there is reason for what you say. King Richard is

the most loyal and gallant of kings, but he is haughty, and hasty in

speech. The Normans, too, have been somewhat accustomed to conquer our

neighbours, and it may well be that the chivalry of France love us not.

However, it must be hoped that this feeling will die away, and that we

shall emulate each other only in our deeds on the battlefield."

CHAPTER VI.

THE LISTS.

The third day after the arrival of the Earl of Evesham there was a

great banquet given by the King of France to King Richard and his

principal nobles.

Among those present was the Earl of Evesham, and Cuthbert as his page

followed him to the great tent where the banquet was prepared.

Here, at the top of the tent, on a raised dais, sat the King of France,

surrounded by his courtiers.

The Earl of Evesham, having been conducted by the herald to the dais,

paid his compliments to the king, and was saluted by him with many

flattering words.

The sound of a trumpet was heard, and Richard of England, accompanied by

his principal nobles, entered.

It was the first time that Cuthbert had seen the king.

Richard was a man of splendid stature and of enormous strength. His

appearance was in some respects rather Saxon than Norman, for his hair

was light and his complexion clear and bright. He wore the moustache and

pointed beard at that time in fashion; and although his expression was

generally that of frankness and good humour, there might be observed in

his quick motions and piercing glances signs of the hasty temper and

unbridled passion which went far to wreck the success of the enterprise

upon which he was embarked.

Richard possessed most of the qualities which make a man a great king and

render him the idol of his subjects, especially in a time of

semi-civilization, when personal prowess is placed at the summit of all

human virtues. In all his dominions there was not one man who in personal

conflict was a match for his king.

Except during his fits of passion, King Richard was generous, forgiving,

and royal in his moods. He was incapable of bearing malice. Although

haughty of his dignity, he was entirely free from any personal pride, and

while he would maintain to the death every right and privilege against

another monarch, he could laugh and joke with the humblest of his

subjects on terms of hearty good fellowship. He was impatient of

contradiction, eager to carry out whatever he had determined upon; and

nothing enraged him so much as hesitation or procrastination. The delays

which were experienced in the course of the Crusade angered him more than

all the opposition offered by the Saracens, or than the hardships through

which the Christian host had to pass.

At a flourish of trumpets all took their seats at dinner, their places

being marked for them by a herald, whose duty it was to regulate nicely

the various ranks and dignities.

The Earl of Evesham was placed next to a noble of Brabant. Cuthbert

took his place behind his lord and served him with wines and meats,

the Brabant being attended by a tall youth, who was indeed on the

verge of manhood.

As the dinner went on the buzz of conversation became fast and furious.

In those days men drank deep, and quarrels often arose over the cups.

From the time that the dinner began, Cuthbert noticed that the manner of

Sir de Jacquelin Barras, Count of Brabant, was rude and offensive.

It might be that he was accustomed to live alone with his retainers, and

that his manners were rude and coarse to all. It might be that he had a

special hostility to the English. At any rate, his remarks were

calculated to fire the anger of the earl.

He began the conversation by wondering how a Norman baron could live in a

country like England, inhabited by a race but little above pigs.

The earl at once fired up at this, for the Normans were now beginning to

feel themselves English, and to resent attacks upon a people for whom

their grandfathers had entertained contempt.

He angrily repelled the attack upon them by the Brabant knight, and

asserted at once that the Saxons were every bit as civilized, and in some

respects superior, to the Normans or French.

The ill-feeling thus begun at starting clearly waxed stronger as dinner

went on. The Brabant knight drank deeply, and although his talk was not

clearly directed against the English, yet he continued to throw out

innuendoes and side attacks, and to talk with a vague boastfulness, which

greatly irritated Sir Walter.

Presently, as Cuthbert was about to serve his master with a cup of wine,

the tall page pushed suddenly against him, spilling a portion of the wine

over his dress.

"What a clumsy child!" he said scoffingly.

"You are a rough and ill-mannered loon," Cuthbert said angrily. "Were

you in any other presence I would chastise you as you deserve."

The tall page burst into a mocking laugh.

"Chastise me!" he said. "Why, I could put you in my pocket for a little

hop-of-my-thumb as you are."

"I think," said Sir Jacquelin--for the boys' voices both rose

loud--to the earl, "you had better send that brat home and order him

to be whipped."

"Sir count," said the earl, "your manners are insolent, and were we not

engaged upon a Crusade, it would please me much to give you a lesson on

that score."

Higher and higher the dispute rose, until some angry word caught the ear

of the king.

Amid the general buzz of voices King Phillip rose, and speaking a word to

King Richard, moved from the table, thus giving the sign for the breaking

up of the feast.

Immediately afterwards a page touched the earl and Sir Jacquelin upon the

shoulder, and told them that the kings desired to speak with them in the

tent of the King of France.

The two nobles strode through the crowd, regarding each other with eyes

much like those of two dogs eager to fly at each other's throat.

"My lords, my lords," said King Phillip when they entered, "this is

against all law and reason. For shame, to be brawling at my table. I

would not say aught openly, but methinks it is early indeed for the

knights and nobles engaged in a common work to fall to words."

"Your Majesty," said the Earl of Evesham, "I regret deeply what has

happened. But it seemed, from the time we sat down to the meal, that this

lord sought to pass a quarrel upon me, and I now beseech your Majesty

that you will permit us to settle our differences in the lists."

King Richard gave a sound of assent, but the King of France shook his

head gravely.

"Do you forget," he said, "the mission upon which you are assembled

here? Has not every knight and noble in these armies taken a solemn oath

to put aside private quarrels and feuds until the holy sepulchre is

taken? Shall we at this very going off show that the oath is a mere form