e them, but which his people interpreted into a permission to
wreak their hatred, malice, and revenge upon the favoured usurers.

The massacre of Jews which began in London and finally culminated in the
fearful scenes of York, spread to other parts and broke out in place
after place. In Lent (1190) the enlisting for the crusade was going on
in Stamford. The recruits, "indignant that the enemies of the Cross of
Christ who lived there should possess so much, while they themselves
had so little for the expenses of so great a journey," rushed upon the
Jews. The men of Stamford tried to stop the riot, but were overcome, and
if it had not been for the Castle the Jews would have been killed to a
man. Two of the plunderers fell out over the booty. One, John by name,
was killed, martyred it was supposed. The old women had dreams about
him. Miracles began. A shrine was set up and robber John began to
develop into Saint John. Then down came the bishop, scattered the
watchers and worshippers, hacked down the shrine and forbade any more
such adoration of Jew-baiting thieves, with a thundering anathema. The
Lincoln people next began the same game, but they did not reckon with
the new warden, Gerard de Camville, who had bought the revenues and
provided a harbour there for the Israelites. We may believe that the
bishop also was not behind hand in quelling such bloody ruffianism, for
the Jews were afterwards very conspicuous in their grief at his death,
evidently owing him something.

King Richard, athirst for adventure, sold all that he could, taxed all
that he could, and then set off for the crusade, carrying with him
Baldwin the gentle archbishop, who was to die in despair at the gross
habits and loose morals of the crusading hosts. He left behind him
brother John, whom he had tried to bribe into fidelity, and a little
lame, black foreigner, Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, who had been adviser,
schemer, general brain box and jackal to the Lionheart, and who now
swept through England with a thousand knights, trying cleverly and
faithfully to rule the restive English and to keep them in some order
and loyalty, in his ill-bred, active way. But the whole position was
impossible and more impossible, first, because of John the always
treasonable; and secondly, because of Walter, late Bishop of Lincoln and
now of Rouen (the Pilate or Pilot?) whom Richard sent to guard the
guardian. Geoffrey, half brother to the king, next came upon the scenes
as