The Queen knew that she was there, but went on with her prayers, or
seemed to go on. Jehane knelt suddenly, put her arms out over Richard,
stooped and kissed his cheek. Then she looked up, desperately
triumphing, for any one to question her right. None did. Berengere
prayed incessantly, and Jehane panted. The words broke from her at last.
'Dost thou question my right, Berengere,' she said fiercely, 'to kiss a
dead man, to love the dead and speak greatly of the dead? Which of us
three women, thinkest thou, knoweth best what report to make concerning
this beloved, thou, or Alois, or I? Alois came, speaking of old sins;
and you are here, plaining of new sins: what shall I do, now I am here?
Am I to speak of sin to come? Thou dear knight,' and she touched his
head, 'there is no more room for thy great sins, alas! But I think thou
shalt leave behind thee some spark of a fire.' She looked again at
Berengere, who saw the glint of her green eyes and the old proud
discontent twisting her lip, but did nothing. 'Look, Berengere,' said
Jehane, 'I speak as mother of his child Fulke of Anjou. I had rather my
son Fulke sinned as his fathers have sinned, so that he sinned greatly
like them, than that he should grow pale, scheming safety in a cloister,
and make the Man in our Saviour ashamed of His choice. I had rather the
bad blood stay, so it stay great blood, than that it should be thin like
thine. What is there to fear, girl? A sword? I have had a sword in my
heart eight years, and made no sound. Let the son pierce what the father
pierced before. I am a lover, saying not to my beloved, "Stroke my
heart, dearest lord"; but instead, "Stab if thou wilt, my King, and let
me bleed for thee." So I have bled, sweet Lord Jesus, and so shall bleed
again!' She stooped and kissed his head, saying, 'Amen. Let the poor
bleed if the King ask.' The Queen went on praying; but Richard opened
his eyes without start or quiver, looked at Jehane leaning over him, and
smiled.

'Well, my girl, well,' he said, 'thou art in good time. What of the
lad?'

'He is here, Richard.'

'Bring him to me,' says the King. So Des Barres stole out to the Moslems
at the door, and came back leading Fulke by the hand, a slim, tall boy,
fair-haired, and frank in the face, with his father's delicate mouth and
bold grey eyes. Jehane turned to take him.

'This is thy father, boy.'

'I know it, ma'am,' says young Fulke, and knelt down by the bed. King
Richard put his hand