John of Mortain was that man. A villain is he.'

A moaning sigh escaped the King, long-drawn, shuddering, very piteous.
'Eh, Alois, Alois! Which of us four was not a villain?'

Said Alois, 'What is past is past, and I have told thee. What is to come
I cannot tell thee, for the past swallows me up. Yet I say again, thy
brother John is a sick villain, a secret villain, and a thief.'

'God help him, God judge him,' said Richard with another sigh. 'I can do
neither, nor will not.' He moaned again, but so hopelessly, as being so
weary and fordone, that Abbot Milo began to blubber out loud. Alois
lifted up her drawn face, and struck her breast.

'Ah, would to God, Richard,' she cried, 'would to God I had come to thee
clean! I had saved thee then from this most bitter death. For if I love
thee now, judge how I had loved thee then.'

He said, with shut eyes, 'None could love me long, since none could
trust me, and not I myself.' Then he said fretfully to the abbot, 'Take
her away, Milo; I am tired.'

Alois, kneeling, kissed his dry forehead. 'Farewell,' she said, 'King
Richard, most a king when most in bonds, and most merciful when most in
need of mercy. My work is done. Remains to pray and prepare.' She went
out noiselessly, as she had come in, and no man of them saw her again.

* * * * *

Next came Queen Berengere, about the time of sunset. She came stiffly,
as if holding herself in a trap, with much formal bowing to Death; quite
white, like ivory, in a black robe; in her hands a great crucifix. At
the door she paused for a minute, the Earl of Leicester being with her.

'Grief is quick in me, Leicester,' she said; then to the ushers of the
door, 'Does he live? Will he know me? Does he wake? Does he not cry for
me now?'

'Madame, the King sleeps,' they told her.

'I go to pray for him,' said the Queen, and went in.

Stiffly she knelt at his bedhead, and with both hands held up the
crucifix to her face. She began to talk to it in a low worn voice, as
though she were asking the Christ to reckon her misery.

'Thou Christ,' she complained, 'Thou Christ, look upon me, the daughter
of a king, crucified terribly with Thee. This dying man is the King my
husband, who denied me as Thou, Christ, wert denied; who sought to put
me by, and yet is loved. Yet I love him, Christ; yet I have worked for
him against my honour, holding it as cheap as he did. When he was in
prison I humbled myself to se