ce of his sovereign.
There he stood, upright and pale, with the spear in his hand, the
yellow cap on his head, and his eyes fixed upon the king.

The courtiers saw him. There was a flutter and a murmuring amongst
them; one of them said something to the King, at which he gave a
start.

'Now for it!' thought Raymond. He moved his head a little--perhaps he
would not have the power of moving it much longer. He wondered how it
would look when it was off his shoulders.

The King now leaned forward in his ivory chair and gazed at Raymond
intently. Then he gave an order to those about him, and the platform
was lowered to the ground by those who carried it. The King stepped
from it and came straight towards Raymond, the crowd falling back on
either side. How strange! instead of frowning his Majesty wore a very
cordial smile. He was close up to Raymond now; he was throwing his
royal arms about his neck; he was kissing him heartily on both
cheeks; he was saying, 'It delights our heart to see thee.
Welcome--welcome to England!'

'What, in the name of wonder, is the meaning of it all?' said Raymond
to himself.

CHAPTER V.

THE KING'S FAVOUR.

When it became evident that King Ormund, instead of cutting off
Raymond's head, was treating him like a younger brother, Raymond began
to pluck up spirit. 'Possibly I look like some friend of his,' he
thought; and he resolved to make the most of the mistake, keeping his
eyes open for the first chance of escape.

Meanwhile the King overwhelmed him with attentions, and even insisted
upon his sitting beside him in the ivory chair; and the courtiers who
had to carry this double weight, instead of looking discontented,
smiled as if Raymond had been loading them with benefits instead of
with himself. The procession now swept onward, and the King himself
had hardly more honour than the washerwoman's son. In his wildest
dreams Raymond had never anticipated making such a brilliant entry
into London as this.

And had he given up the idea of going back to Honeymead? Yes; and he
had almost forgotten that there was such a place. The Brindled Cow and
Rosamund were like visions of the past which did not much concern him.
His yellow cap was the thing that most troubled him, for it pained his
head badly. If he had been alone he would have taken it off; but in
such fine company he was unwilling to be seen without the handsomest
part of his attire.

All this time the King had been talking t