The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91 - Maurice Hewlett (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

Roads, And Set Himself To Walk Others With A Clog On His Leg.

Better Far Had She Been A Wanton Of No Account, A Piece Of Dalliance, A

Pastime, A Common Delight! She Was Very Much Other Than That. Dame

Jehane Was A Good Girl, A Noble Girl, A Handsome Girl Of Inches And

Bright Blood; But By The Lord God Of Israel (Who Died On The Tree),

These Virtues Cost Her Dear.'

 

All This, We May Take It, Is True; The Pity Is That The Thing Promised

So Fair. Those Who Had Not Known Jehane Before Were Astonished At Her

Capacity, Discretion, And Dignity. She Had A Part To Play At Le Mans,

Where Richard Kept His Easter, Which Would Have Taxed A Wiser Head. She

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Moved Warily, A Poor Thing Of Gauze, Amid Those Great Lights. King

Philip Had A Tender Nose; A Very Whiff Of Offence Might Have Drawn

Blood. Prince John Had A Shrewd Eye And An Evil Way Of Using It; He

Stroked Women, But They Seldom Liked It, And Never Found Good Come Of

It. The Duke Of Burgundy Ate And Drank Too Much. He Resembled A Sponge,

When Empty Too Rough A Customer, When Full Too Juicy. It Was On One Of

The Days When He Was Very Full That, Tilting At The Ring, He Won, Or

Said He Won, Forty Pounds Of Richard. Empty, He Claimed Them, But

Richard Discerned A Rasp In His Manner Of Asking, And Laughed At Him.

The Duke Of Burgundy Took This Ill. He Was Never Quite The Same To

Richard Again; But He Made Great Friends With Prince John.

 

With All These, And With Their Courtiers, Who Took Complexion From Their

Masters, Jehane Had To Hold The Fair Way. As A Mistress Who Was To Be A

Wife, The Veiled Familiarity With Which She Was Treated Was Always

Preaching To Her. How Dare She Be A Countess Who Was Of So Little

Account Already? The Poor Girl Felt Herself Doomed Beforehand. What

King's Mistress Had Ever Been His Wife? And How Could She Be Richard's

Wife, Betrothed To Gilles De Gurdun? Richard Was Much Afield In These

Days, Making Military Dispositions Against His Coming Absence In

Poictou. She Saw Him Rarely; But In Return She Saw His Peers, And Had To

Keep Her Head High Among The Women Of The French Court. And So She Did

Until One Day, As She Was Walking Back From Mass With Her Ladies, She

Saw Her Brother Saint-Pol On Horseback, Him And William Des Barres.

Timidly She Would Have Slipped By; But Saint-Pol Saw Her, Reined Up His

Horse In The Middle Of The Street, And Stared At Her As If She Had Been

Less Than Nothing To Him. She Felt Her Knees Fail Her, She Grew Vividly

Red, But She Kept Her Way. After This Terrible Meeting She Dared Not

Leave The Convent.

 

Of Course She Was Quite Safe. Saint-Pol Could Not Do Anything Against

The Conqueror Of Touraine, The Ally Of His Master; But She Felt Tainted,

And Had Thoughts (Not For The First Time) Of Taking The Veil. One Woman

Had Already Taken It; She Heard Much Concerning Madame Alois From The

Canonesses, How She Had A Little Cell At Fontevrault Among The Nuns

There, How She Shivered With Cold In The Hottest Sun, How She Shrieked

O' Nights, How Chattered To Herself, And How She Used A Cruel

Discipline. All These Things Working Upon Jehane's Mind Made Her Love An

Agony. Many And Many A Time When Her Royal Lover Came To Visit Her She

Clung To Him With Tears, Imploring Him To Cast Her Off Again; But The

More She Bewailed The More He Pursued His End. In Truth He Was Master By

This Time, And Utterly Misconceived Her. Nothing She Might Say Or Do

Could Stay Him From His Intent, Which Was To Wed And Afterwards Crown

Her Countess Of Poictou. This Was To Be Done At Pentecost, As The Only

Reparation He Could Make Her.

 

Not Even What Befell On The Way To Poictiers For This Very Thing Could

Alter Him. Again He Misread Her, Or Was Too Full Of What He Read In

Himself To Read Her At All. They Left Le Mans A Fortnight Before

Pentecost With A Great Train Of Lords And Ladies, Richard Looking Like A

Young God, With The Light Of Easy Mastery Shining In His Eyes. She, Poor

Girl, Might Have Been Going To The Gallows--And Before The End Of The

Journey Would Thankfully Have Gone There; And No Wonder. Listen To This.

 

Midway Between Châtelherault And Poictiers Is A Sandy Waste Covered With

Scrub Of Juniper And Wild Plum, Which Contrives A Living By Some Means

Between Great Bare Rocks. It Is A Disconsolate Place, Believed To Be The

Abode Of Devils And Other Damned Spirits. Now, As They Were Riding Over

This Desert, Picking Their Way Among The Boulders At The Discretion Of

Their Animals, It So Happened That Richard And Jehane Were In Front By

Some Forty Paces. Riding So, Presently Jehane Gave A Short Gasping Cry,

And Almost Fell Off Her Horse. She Pointed With Her Hand, And 'Look,

Look, Look!' She Said In A Dry Whisper. There At A Little Distance From

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Them Was A Leper, Who Sat Scratching Himself On A Rock.

 

'Ride On, Ride On, My Heart,' Said Richard; But She, 'No, No, He Is

Coming. We Must Wait.' Her Voice Was Full Of Despair.

 

The Leper Came Jumping From Rock To Rock, A Horrible Thing Of Rags And

Sores, With A Loose Lower Jaw, Which His Disease Had Fretted To

Dislocation. He Stood In Their Mid Path, In Full Sun, And Plucking At

His Disastrous Eyes, Peered Upon The Gay Company. By This Time All The

Riders Were Clustered Together Before Him, And He Fingered Them Out One

After Another--Richard, Whom He Called The Red Count, Gaston, Béziers,

Auvergne, Limoges, Mercadet; But At Jehane He Pointed Long, And In A

Voice Between A Croak And A Clatter (He Had No Palate), Said Thrice,

'Hail Thou!'

 

She Replied Faintly, 'God Be Good To Thee, Brother.' He Kept His Finger

Still Upon Her As He Spoke Again: Every One Heard His Words.

 

'Beware (He Said) The Count's Cap And The Count's Bed; For So Sure As

Thou Liest In Either Thou Art Wife Of A Dead Man, And Of His Killer.'

Jehane Reeled, And Richard Held Her Up.

 

'Begone, Thou Miserable,' He Cried In His High Voice, 'Lest I Pity Thee

No More.' But The Leper Was Capering Away Over The Rocks, Hopping And

Flapping His Arms Like An Old Raven. At A Safe Distance He Squatted Down

And Watched Them, His Chin On His Bare Knees.

 

This Frightened Jehane So Much That In The Refectory Of A Convent, Where

They Stayed The Night, She Could Hardly See Her Victual For Tears, Nor

Eat It For Choking Grief. She Exhausted Herself By Entreaties. Milo Says

That She Was Heard Crying Out At Richard Night After Night, Conjur Ing

Him By Christ On The Cross, And Mary At The Foot Of The Cross, Not To

Turn Love Into A Stabbing Blade; But All To No Purpose. He Soothed And

Petted Her, He Redoubled Her Honours, He Compelled Her To Love Him; And

The More She Agonised The More He Was Confident He Would Right Her.

 

Very Definitely And With Unexampled Profusion He Provided For Her

Household And Estate As Soon As He Was At Home. Kings' Daughters Were

Among Her Honourable Women, At Least, Counts' Daughters, Daughters Of

Viscounts And Castellans. She Had Lady Saill Of Ventadorn, Lady Elis Of

Montfort, Lady Tibors, Lady Maent, Lady Beatrix, All Fully As Noble, And

Two Of Them Certainly More Beautiful Than She. Lady Saill And Lady Elis

Were The Most Lovely Women Of Aquitaine, Saill With A Face Like A Flame,

Elis Clear And Cold As Spring Water In The High Rocks. He Gave Her A

Chancellor Of Her Seal, A Steward Of The Household, A Bishop For

Chaplain. Viscount Ebles Of Ventadorn Was Her Champion, And Bertran De

Born (Who Had Been Doing Secret Mischief In The South, As You Will Learn

By And By), If You Will Believe It, Bertran De Born Was Forgiven And

Made Her Trobador. It Was At A Great Court Of Love Which Richard Caused

To Be Held In The Orchards Outside Poictiers, With Pavilions And A

Chastel D'amors, That Bertran Came In And Was Forgiven For The Sake Of

His Great Singing. On A White Silk Tribune Before The Castle Sat Jehane,

In A Red Gown, Upon Her Golden Head A Circlet Of Dull Silver, With The

Leaves And Thorns Which Made Up The Coronet Of A Countess. Richard Bade

Sound The Silver Trumpets, And His Herald Proclaim Her Three Times, To

The North, To The East, And To The South, As 'The Most Puissant And

Peerless Princess, Madame Jehane, By The Grace Of God Countess Of

Poictou, Duchess Of Aquitaine, Consort Of Our Illustrious Dread Lord

Monsire Richard, Count And Duke Of The Same.' Himself, Gloriously

Attired In A Bliaut Of White Velvet And Gold, With A Purple Cloak Over

His Shoulder, Sustained In A _Tenzon_ With The Chief Trobadors Of

Languedoc, That She Was 'The Most Pleasant Lovely Lady Now On Earth, Or

Ever Known There Since The Days Of Madame Dido, Queen Of Carthage, And

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Madame Cleopatra, Empress Of Babylon'--Unfortunate Examples Both, As

Some Thought.

 

Minstrels And Poets Of The Greatest Contended With Him; Saill Had Her

Champion In Guillem Of Cabestaing, Elis In Girault Of Borneilh; The

Dauphin Of Auvergne Sang Of Tibors, And Peire Vidal Of Lady Maent.

Towards The End Came Sideways In That Dishevelled Red Fox (Whom Nothing

Shamed), Bertran De Born Himself, Looked Askance At The Count, Puffed

Out His Cheeks To Give Himself Assurance, And Began To Sing Of Jehane In

A Way That Brought Tears To Richard's Eyes. It Was Bertran Who Dubbed

Her With The Name She Ever Afterwards Went By Throughout Poictou And The

South, The Name Of Bel Vezer. Richard At The End Clipped Him In His

Arms, And With One Arm Still Round His