f the money, was more difficult. Two years passed, and still it
was not all paid. The royal prisoner, weary of his long captivity,
complained bitterly of the neglect of his people and friends, singing
his woes in a song composed in the polished dialect of Provence, the
land of the troubadours.

"There is no man, however base, whom for want of money I would let lie
in a prison cell," he sang. "I do not say it as a reproach, but I am
still a prisoner."

A part of the ransom at length reached Germany, whose emperor sent a
third of it to the duke of Austria as his share of the prize, and
consented to the liberation of his captive in the third week after
Christmas if he would leave hostages to guarantee the remaining
payment.

Richard agreed to everything, glad to escape from prison on any terms.
But the news of this agreement spread until it reached the ears of
Philip of France and his ally, John. Dread filled their hearts at the
tidings. Their plans for seizing on England and Normandy were not yet
complete. In great haste Philip sent messengers to the emperor, offering
him seventy thousand marks of silver if he would hold his prisoner for
one year longer, or, if he preferred, a thousand pounds of silver for
each month of captivity. If he would give the prisoner into the custody
of Philip and his ally, they would pay a hundred and fifty thousand
marks for the prize.

The offer was a tempting one. It dazzled the mind of the emperor, whose
ideas of honor were not very deeply planted. But the members of the Diet
would not suffer him to break his faith. Their power was great, even
over the emperor's will, and the royal prisoner, after his many weary
months of captivity, was set free.

Word of the failure of his plans came quickly to Philip's knavish ears,
and he wrote in haste to his confederate, "the devil is loose; take care
of yourself," an admonition which John was quite likely to obey. His
hope of seizing the crown vanished. There remained to meet his placable
brother with a show of fraternal loyalty.

But Richard was delayed in his purpose of reaching England, and danger
again threatened him. He had been set free near the end of January,
1194. He dared not enter France, and Normandy, then invaded by the
French, was not safe for him. His best course was to take ship at a
German port and sail for England. But it was the season of storms; he
lay a month at Anvers imprecating the weather; meanwhile, avarice
overcame b