Poictiers: 'if it lasts him, he is a slow
spender of his force; but on that account all the more dangerous in
adversity, having the deeper funds. By this I would be understood to
imply that the devil of Anjou, turned to fighting uses in King Richard's
latter years, found him a habitable fortalice.' With the best reasons in
life for the reflection, he might have said it more simply; for it is
simply true. Deserted by his allies, balked of his great aspiration,
within a day's march of the temple of God, yet as far from that as from
his castle of Chinon; eaten with fever; having death, lost purpose,
murmurings, fed envy reproach, upon his conscience--he yet fought his
way through sullen leagues of mud to Ascalon; besieged it, drove his
enemy out, regained it. Thence, pushing quickly south, he surprised
Darum, and put the garrison to the sword. By this act he cut Saladin in
two, and drove such a wedge into the body of his empire as might leave
either lung of it at his mercy. The time seemed, indeed, ripe for
negotiation. Saladin sent his brother down from Jerusalem with presents
of hawks; Richard, sitting in armed state at Darum, received him
affably. There was still a chance that treaty might win for Jesus Christ
what the sword had not won.

Then, as if in mockery of the greatness of men, came ill news apace. The
Frenchmen, back in Acre, heard tell of Montferrat's doings and undoing.
Pretty work of this sort perturbed the allies. The Duke of Burgundy
charged Saladin with the murder; Saint-Pol loudly charged King Richard,
and the Duke's death, coming timely, left him in the field. He made the
most of his chance, wrote to the Emperor, to King Philip, to his cousin
the Archduke of Austria (at home by now), of this last shameful deed of
the red Angevin. He even sent messengers to Richard himself with open
letters of accusal. Richard laughed, but for all that broke off
negotiations with Saladin until he could prove Saint-Pol as great a liar
as he himself knew him to be. Then rose up again the question of the
Crown of Jerusalem. The Count of Champagne took ship and came to Darum
to beg it of Richard. He too brought news with him. The Duke of Burgundy
was dead of an apoplexy. 'It seems that God is still faintly on my
side,' said Richard, 'There went out a sooty candle.'

The next words gave his boast the lie. 'Beau sire,' said Count Henry, 'I
grieve to tell you something more. Before I left Acre I saw the Abbot
Milo.'

Richard