OF THE LOVE OF WOMEN
'Ask me no more how I did in those days,' writes Abbot Milo. 'Mercy
smile upon me in the article of death, but I worked for the ransom of
King Richard as (I hope) I should for that of King Christ. Many an abbey
of Touraine goes lean now because of me; many a mass is wrought in a
pewter chalice that Richard might come home. Yet I soberly believe that
Madame Alois, King Philip's sister, was precious above rubies in the
work.'
I think he is right. That stricken lady, in the habit of a grey nun of
Fontevrault, came by night to Paris, and found her brother with John of
Mortain. They had been upon the very business. Philip, not all knave,
had been moved by the news of Richard's immobility. He had had some of
De Gurdun's report.
'Christ-dieu,' he said, 'a great king calm in chains! And my brother
Richard. Yet God knows I hate him.' So he went muttering on. The Count
edged in his words as he could.
'He hates you, indeed, sire. He hates me. He hates all of us.'
'I think we could find him reasons for that, my friend, if he lacked
them,' said Philip shrewdly. 'Do you know that De Gurdun is in Poictou
come from Styria?'
Count John said nothing; but he did know it very well. When they
announced Madame Alois the King started, and the Count went sick white.
'We will receive her Grace,' said Philip, and advanced towards the door
for the purpose. In she came in her old eager, stumbling, secret way,
knelt in a hurry to kiss her brother's hand, then rose and looked
intently at John of Mortain.
The King said, 'You visit us late, sister; but your occasions may drive
you.'
'They do drive me, sire. I have seen the Sieur Gilles de Gurdun. King
Richard is in hold at Gratz, and must be delivered.'
'By you, sister?'
'By me, sire.'
'You grow Christian, Madame.'
'It is my need, sire. I have done King Richard a great wrong. This is
not tolerable to me.'
'Eh,' says Philip, 'not so fast. Was no wrong done to you?'
'Wrong was done me,' said the white girl, 'but not by him.'
'The wrong lies in his blood. What though the wrong-doer is dead? His
blood must answer it.'
Alois shivered, and so, for that matter, did one other there. She
answered, 'I pray for his death. Dying or dead, his blood shall answer
it.'
'You speak darkly, sister.'
'I live in the dark,' said Alois.
'King Richard has affronted my house in you sister.'
But she said, 'I have affronted King Richard through his house.'
'Is this all you have to say, Alois?'
'No, sire,' she told him, with a fierce and biting look at Mortain; 'but
it is all I need say now.'
It was. A cry broke strangling from the Count. 'Ha, Jesus! Sire! Save my
brother!' The wretch could bear no more. The woman's eyes were like
swords.
King Philip marvelled. 'You!' he said, 'you!' John put out his hands.
Oh, sire, Madame is in the right. I am a wicked man. I must make my
brother amends. He must be saved.'
King Philip scratched his head. 'Who is in the dark if not I? I will
deal with you presently, Mortain. But you, Madame,' he turned hotly on
the lady, 'you must be plainer. What is your zeal for the King of
England? He is your cousin, and might have been your husband.' Alois
flinched, but Philip went roughly on. 'Do you owe him thanks that he is
not? Is this what spurs you?'
She looked doubtfully. 'I owe him honour, Philip,' she said slowly. 'He
is a great king.'
'Great king, great king!' Philip broke out; 'pest! and great rascal.
There is no truth in him, no bottom, no thanks, no esteem. He counts me
as nothing.'
'To him,' said Alois, 'you are nothing.'
'Madame,' said Philip, 'I am King of France, your brother and lord. He
is my vassal; owes fealty and breaks it, signs treaties and levies war;
hectors me and laughs, kills my servants and laughs. He is my cousin,
but I am his suzerain. I do not choose to be mocked. There will be no
rest for this kingdom while he is in it.' He stopped, then turned to the
shaking man. 'As for you, Count of Mortain, I must have an explanation.
My sister loves her enemies: it is a Christian virtue. I have not found
it one of yours. You, perhaps, fear your enemies, even caged. Is this
your thought? You have made yourself snug in Aquitaine, Count; you are
not unknown in Anjou, I think. Do you begin to wish that you might be?
Are you, by chance, a little oversnug? I candidly say that I prefer you
for my neighbour in those parts. I can deal with you. Do me the
obedience to speak.'
'Sire,' said the Count, spreading out his hands, 'Madame Alois has
turned me. I am a sinner, but I can restore. My brother is my lord, a
clement prince--'
'Pish!' said King Philip, and gave him his back.
'Madame, go to bed,' he said to his sister. 'I shall pay dear for it,
but I will not oppose my cousin's ransom. Be content with that.' Alois
slipped out. Then he turned upon John like a flash of flame.
'Now, Mortain,' he said, 'what proof is there of that old business of my
sister's?'
John showed him a scared eye--the milky eye of a drowned man. 'Ah, God,
sire, there is none at all--none--none!' He had no breath. Philip raised
his voice.
'Look to yourself; I shall not help you. Leave my lands, go where you
will, hide, bury your head, drown yourself. If I spoke what lies
bottomed in my heart I should kill you with mere words. But there is
worse for you in store. There will be war in France, if I know Richard;
but mark what I say, after that there shall be war in England.' The
thought of Richard overwhelmed him: he gave a queer little sigh. 'See,
now, how much love and what lives of women are spent for one tall man,
who gives nothing, and asks nothing, but waits, looking lordly, while
they give and give and give. Let Richard come, since women cry for
wounds. But you!' He flamed again. 'Get you to hell: you are all a liar.
Avoid me, lest I learn more of you.'
'Dear sire,' John began. Philip loathed him. 'Ah, get you gone, snake,
or I tread upon you,' he said; and the prince avoided. So much was
wrought by Alois of France.
* * * * *
No visitation of a dead woman could have shocked Queen Berengère more
suddenly than the apparition of a tall nun, when she saw it was Jehane.
She put her hand upon her heart.
'Ah,' she said, 'you trouble me again, Jehane? Am I never to rest from
you?'
jehane did not falter. 'Do I have any rest? The King is chained in
Styria; he must be redeemed. It is your turn. I saved his life for you
once by selling my own. Now I am the wife of an old man, with nothing
more to sell. Do you sell something.'
'Sell? Sell? What can I sell that he will buy?' whined Berengère. 'He
loves me not.'
'Well,' said Jehane, 'what has that to do with it? Do you not love
him?'
'I am his miserable wife. I have nothing to sell.
'Sell your pride, Berengère,' says Jehane. Berengère bit her lip.
'You speak strangely to me, woman.'
Says Jehane, 'I am grown strange. Once I was a girl dishonoured because
I loved. Now I am a wife greatly honoured because I do not love.'
'You do not love your husband?'
'How should I,' said Jehane, 'when I love yours? But I honour my
husband, and watch over his honour: he is good to me.'
'You dare to tell me that you love the King? Ah, you have been with him
again!' Jehane looked critically at her.
'I have not seen him, nor ever shall till he is dead. But we must save
him, you and I, Berengère.'
Berengère, the little toy woman, when she saw how noble the other stood,
and how inflexible, came wheedling to her, with hands to touch her chin.
'Jehane, sister, let it be my part to save Richard. Indeed I love him.
You have done so much, to you now he should be nothing. Let me do it,
let me do it, please, Jehane!' So she stroked and coaxed. The tall nun
smiled.
'Must I always be giving, and my well never be dry? Yes, yes, I will
trust you. No; you shall not kiss me yet; I have not done. Go to the
Queen-Mother, go to the King your brother. Go not to the French King,
nor to Count John. He is more cruel than hyænas, and more a coward. Find
the Abbot Milo, find the Lord of Béarn, find the Sieur des Barres, find
Mercadet. Raise England, sell your jewels, your crown; eh, God of Gods,
sell your pretty self. The Queen-Mother is a fierce woman, but she will
help you. Do these things faithfully, and I leave King Richard's life in
your hands. May I trust you?' The other girl looked up at her,
wistfully, still touching her chin.
'Kiss me, Jehane!'
'Yes, yes, I will kiss you now, Frozen Heart. You are thawed.'
Jehane, going back to Bordeaux, found Cogia with a ship, wherein she
sailed for Tortosa. But Berengère, Queen of England, played a queen's
part.