g Richard. Even when she was
told, with proof positive, that he was in treaty with Rome, she said not
a word to her friends. Secretly she hugged herself, beginning (like most
women) to find pleasure in pain. 'Let him deny me, let him deny me
thrice, even as Thou wert denied, sweet Lord Jesus!' she prayed to
Christ on the wall. 'So denied, Thou didst not cease from loving. I
think the woman in Thee outcried the man.' She got a piercing bliss out
of each new knife stuck in her little jumping heart. Once or twice she
wrote to Alois of France, who was at Fontevrault, in her King's country.
'Dear lady,' she wrote, 'they seek to enrage my lord against me. If you
see him, tell him that I believe nothing that I hear until I receive the
word from his own glorious mouth.' Alois, chilly in her cell, took no
steps to get speech with King Richard. 'Let her suffer: I suffer,' she
would say. And then, curiously jealous lest more pain should be
Berengere's than was hers, a daughter's of France, she made haste to
send assuring messages to Cahors. Still Berengere sweetly agonised.
Saint-Pol sent her letters full of love and duty, enthusiastic,
breathing full arms against her wrongs. But she always replied, 'Count
of Saint-Pol, you do me injury in seeking to redress your own. I admit
nothing against my lord the King. Many hate him, but I love him. My will
is to be meek. Meekness would become you very well also.' Saint-Pol
could not think so.

Lastly came the intelligence that King Richard in person was moving
south with a great force to win the treasure of Chaluz. The news was
true. Not only did he dwell with the nervous persistency of the
afflicted upon the wretched gold Caesar, but with clearer political
vision saw a chance of subduing all Aquitaine. 'Any stick will do, even
Adhemar of Limoges,' he said, not suspecting Saint-Pol's finger in the
dish; and told Mercadet to summon the knights, and the knights their
array. Before he set out he sent two messengers more--one to Rome, and
one much further east. Then he began his warlike preparations with great
heart.

CHAPTER XV

OECONOMIC REFLECTIONS OF THE OLD MAN OF MUSSE

Jehane, called Gulzareen, the Golden Rose, had borne three children to
the Old Man of Musse. She was suckling the third, and teaching her
eldest, the young Fulke of Anjou, his Creed, or as much of it as she
could remember, when there came up a herald from Tortosa who bore upon
his tabard the three leopards of