ers to the Street of the
Camel. Squires of his threw silver coins among the crowds who filled the
ways.

Within the house, he laid her on her bed, and held up the child before
her, high in the air. He was in that great mood where nothing could
resist him. She, faint and fragrant on the bed, so frail as to seem
transparent, a disembodied sprite, smiled because she felt at ease, as
the feeble do when they first lie down.

'Lo, Fulke of Anjou!' sang Richard--'Fulke, son of Richard, the son of
Henry, the son of Geoffrey, the son of Fulke! Fulke, my son Fulke, I
will make thee a knight even now!' He held the babe in one hand, with
the free hand drew his long sword. The flat blade touched the nodding
little head.

'Rise up, Sir Fulke of Anjou, true knight of thine house, Sieur de
Cuigny when I have thee home again. By the Face!' he cried shortly, as
if remembering something, 'we must get him the badge: a switch of wild
broom!'

'Dear lord, sweet lord,' murmured Jehane, faint in bed, nearly gone: but
he raved on.

'When I lay, even as thou, Fulke, naked by my mother, my father sent for
a branch of the broom, and stuck it in the pillow against I could carry
it. And shalt thou go without it, boy? Art not thou of the
broom-bearers?' He put the child into the nurse's arm and went to the
door. He called for Gaston of Bearn, for the Dauphin of Auvergne, for
Mercadet, for the devil. The Bishop of Salisbury came running in.
'Bishop,' said King Richard, 'you must serve me to-day. You must take
ship, my friend, with speed; you must go to Bordeaux, thence a-horseback
to the moor above Angers. Pluck me a branch of the wild broom and
return. I must have it, I tell you; so go. Haste, Bishop. God be with
you.'

The Bishop began to splutter. 'Hey, sire--!'

'Never call me that again, Bishop, if your ship is within sight by
sunset,' he said. 'Call me rather the Prince of the Devils. See my
chancellor, take my ring to him, omit nothing. Off with you, and back
with all speed.'

'Ha, sire, look you now,' cried the desperate bishop, 'there will be no
broom before next Easter. Here we are at Lammas.'

'There will be a miracle,' said Richard; 'I am sure of it. Go.' Fairly
pushing him from the door, he returned to find Jehane in a dead faint.
This set him raving a new tune. He fell upon his knees incontinent,
raised her in his arms, carried her about, kissed her all over, cried
upon the saints and God, did every extravagance under the su