not tire.'

He had been speaking as if to himself so far, but now turned his
hawk-eyes upon Des Barres. 'Tell me now,' he said, 'who gave the order
to the rear to charge, against my order?'

'Sire,' replied Des Barres, 'it was the Duke of Burgundy.'

'You do not understand me,' said Richard. 'It came through the Duke of
Burgundy's windpipe. But who put it into his thick head?'

Des Barres looked troubled. 'Ah, sire, must I answer you?'

Considering him, King Richard said, 'No, Des Barres, you need not. For
now I know who it was. Well, he has lost me my game, and won a part of
his, I doubt.' Then he rode off, bidding Des Barres sound the recall.

'Of the pagans that day,' writes Milo by hearsay, 'we made hecatombs two
score five: yet the King my master took no pleasure of that, as I
gather, deeming that he should have had Saladin's head in a bag. Also we
gained a clear road to Joppa.' So they did; but Joppa was a heap of
stones.

* * * * *

They held a great council there. Richard put out his views. There were
two things to be done: repair Joppa and march at once on Jerusalem,
there to find and have again at Saladin; or pursue the coast road to
Ascalon and raise the siege of that city. 'I, my lords, am for Ascalon,'
Richard said. 'It is the key of Egypt. While the Soldan holds us cooped
up in Ascalon he can get his pack-mules through. If we relieve it, after
the battery we have done him we can hold Jerusalem at our whim. What do
you say to this, Duke of Burgundy?'

In the natural order of things the Duke would have said nothing. But he
had been filled to the neck by Saint-Pol. Richard being for Ascalon, the
key of Egypt, the Duke declared himself for Jerusalem, 'the key,' as he
rather flatly said, 'of the world.' To this Richard contented himself
with replying, that a key was little worth unless you could open the
door with it. All the French stood by their leader, except Des Barres.
He, with Richard's party, leaned to the King's side. But the Duke of
Burgundy would not budge, sat like a lump. He would not go to Ascalon,
and none of his battle should go. Richard cursed all Frenchmen, but gave
in. The truth was, he dared not leave Saint-Pol behind him.

They repaired the walls and towers of Joppa, garrisoned the place. Then
late in the autumn (truthfully, too late) they struck inland over a
rolling grass country towards Blanchegarde, a white castle on a green
hill. Moving slowly a