The Life And Death Of Richard Yea And Nay Volume 91 - Maurice Hewlett (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗
- Author: Maurice Hewlett
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L'evèque To Rouen; And There They Found The Queen-Mother, An
Unquenchable Spirit. One Of Richard's First Acts Had Been To Free Her
From The Fortress In Which, For Ten Years Or More, The Old King Had Kept
Her. There Were No Prison-Traces Upon Her When She Met Her Son, And
Fixed Her Son's Mistress With A Calculating Eye. A Low-Browed, Swarthy
Woman, Heavily Built, With The Wreck Of Great Beauty Upon Her, Having
Fingers Like The Talons Of A Bird And A Trap-Mouth; It Was Not Hard To
See That Into The Rocky Mortice Where Richard Had Been Cast There Went
Some Grains Of Flint From Her. She Had Slow, Deliberate Movements Of The
Body, But A Darting Mind; She Was A Most Passionate Woman, But Frugal Of
Her Passion, Eking It Out To Cover Long Designs. Whether She Loved Or
Hated--And She Could Glow With Either Lust Until She Seemed
Incandescent--She Went Slowly To Work. The Quicker She Saw, The Slower
She Was Reducing Sight Into Possession. With All This, Like Her Son
Richard, She Was Capable Of Strong Revulsions. Thus She Had Loved, Then
Hated King Henry; Thus She Was To Spurn, Then To Cling To Jehane.
At Rouen She Did Her Best To Crush The Young Girl To The Pavement With
Her Intolerable Flat-Lidded Eyes. When Jehane Saw Her Stand On The Steps
Of The Church Amidst The Pomp Of Normandy And England--Three Archbishops
By Her, William Marshal, William Longchamp, The Earls, The Baronage, The
Knights, Heralds, Blowers Of Trumpets; When At Her Example All This
Glory Of Church And State Bent The Knee To Richard Of Anjou, And He,
Kneeling In Turn, Kissed His Mother's Hand, Then Rose And To The Others
Gave His To Be Kissed; When He, Vowed To Her, Pledged To Her, Known Of
Her More Secretly Than Of Any, Passed Through The Blare Of Horns Alone
Into The Soaring Nave--Jehane Shivered And Crossed Herself, Faltered A
Little, And Might Have Fallen. Her King Was Doing By Her As She Had
Prayed Him; But The Scrutiny Of The Queen-Mother Had Been A Dry Gloss To
The Text. She Had Been Able To Bear Her Forsaking With A Purer Heart,
But For The Narrow Eyes That Witnessed It And Gleamed. One Of Her
Ladies, Magdalène Coucy, Put An Arm About Her; So Countess Jehane
Stiffened And Jerked Up Her Head, And After That Walked With No More
Faltering. If She Had Seen, As Milo Saw, Gilles De Gurdun Glowering At
Her From A Corner, It Might Have Gone Hard With Her. But She Did Not.
They Crowned Richard Duke Of Normandy, And To Him Came All The Barons Of
The Duchy One By One, To Do Him Homage. And First The Archbishop Of
Rouen, In Whose Allegiance Was That Same Sir Gilles. But Gilles Knew
Very Well That There Could Be No Fealty From Him To This Robber Of A
Duke. Gilles Had Seen Jehane; And When He Could Bear The Sight No More
For Fear His Eyes Should Bleed, He Went And Walked About The Streets To
Cool His Head. He Swore By All The Saints In The Calendar Of Rouen--And
These Are Many--That He Would Close This Account. Let Him Be Torn Apart
By Horses, He Would Kill The Man Who Had Stolen His Wife And Killed His
Father And Brother, Were He Duke, King, Or Emperor Of The West.
Meantime, In The Church That Golden-Haired Duke, Set High On The Throne
Of Normandy, Received Between His Hands The Hands Of The Normans; And In
A Stall Of The Choir Jehane Prayed Fervently For Him, With Her Arms
Enfolding Her Bosom.
Gilles Was Seen Again At Harfleur, When The King Embarked For England.
He Had A Hood Over His Head; But Milo Knew Him By The Little Steady Eyes
And Bar Of Black Above. When The Great Painted Sails Bellied To The
Off-Shore Wind And The Dragon-Standard Of England Pointed The Sea-Way
Northward Into The Haze, Milo Saw Gilles Standing On The Mole, A Little
Apart From His Friends, Watching The Galley Which Took Jehane Out Of
Reach.
Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 16 (Conversation In England Of Jehane The Fair) Pg 88If Milo Found The Normans Like Ginger In The Mouth, It Is Not To Be
Supposed That The English Suited Him Any Better. He Calls Them
'Fog-Stewed,' Says That They Ate Too Much, And Were As Proud Of That As
Of Everything Else They Did. Luckily, He Had Very Little To Do With
Them, Though Not Much Less, Perhaps, Than His Master. Dry Facts Content
Him: How The King Disembarked At Southampton And Took Horse; How He Rode
Through Forests To Winchester; How There He Was Met By The Bishop, Heard
Mass In The Minster, And Departed For Guildford; Thence Again, How
Through Wood And Heath They Came To Westminster 'And A Fair Church Set
In Meadows By A Broad Stream'--To Tell This Rapidly Contents Him. But
Once In London The Story Begins To Concentrate. It Is Clear There Was
Danger For Jehane. King Richard, It Seems, Caused Her To Be Lodged 'In A
Place Of Nuns Over The River, In A Place Which Is Called In English
Lamehithe.'
This Was Quite True; Danger There Was, As Richard Saw, Who Knew His
Mother. But He Did Not Then Know How Quick With Danger The Times Were.
The Queen-Mother Had Upon Her The Letter Of Don Sancho The Wise, And To
Her The Politics Of Europe Were An Open Book. One Holy War Succeeded
Another, And One King; But What King That Might Be Depended Neither Upon
Holiness Nor War So Much As On The Way Each Was Used. Marriage With
Navarre Might Push Anjou Across The Mountains; The Holy War Might Lift
It Across The Sea. Who Was The 'Yellow-Haired King Of The West' Whom
They Of The East Foretold, If Not Her Goodly Son? Should God Be Thwarted
By A ----? She Hesitated Not For A Word, But I Hesitate.
If The Queen-Mother Was Afraid Of Anything In The World, It Was Of The
Devil In The Race She Had Mothered. It Had Thwarted Her In Their Father,
But It Cowed Her In Her Sons. Most Of All, I Think, In Richard She
Feared It, Because Richard Could Be So Cold. A Flamy Devil As In Young
Henry, Or A Brimstone Devil As In Geoffrey Of Brittany, Or A Spitfire
Devil As Was John's--With These She Could Cope, Her Lord Had Had Them
All. But In Richard She Was Shy Of The Bleak Isolation, The
Self-Sufficing, The Hard, Chill Core. She Dreaded It, Yet It Drew Her;
She Was Tempted To Beat Vainly At It For The Passion's Sake; And So In
This Case She Dared To Do. She Would Cheerfully Have Killed The Minion,
But She Dared The King First.
When She Opened To Him The Matter Of Don Sancho's Letter, None Knew
Better Than Richard That The Matter Might Have Been Good. Yet He Would
Have Nothing To Say To It. 'Madame,' His Words Were, 'This Is An Idle
Letter, If Not Impertinent. Don Sancho Knows Very Well That I Am Married
Already.'
'Eh, Sire! Eh, Richard!' Said The Queen-Mother, 'Then He Knows More Than
I.'
'I Think Not, Madame,' The King Replied, 'Since I Have This Moment
Informed You.'
The Queen Swallowed This; Then Said, 'This Wife Of Yours, Richard, Who
Is Not Duchess Of Normandy, Will Not Be Queen, I Doubt?'
Richard's Face Grew Haggard; For The Moment He Looked Old. 'Such Again
Is The Fact, Madame.'
'But--' The Queen Began. Richard Looked At Her, So She Ended There.
Afterwards She Talked With The Archbishop Of Canterbury, With The
Marshal, With Longchamp Of Ely, And Her Son John. All These Worthies
Volume 91 Book 1 (The Book Of Yea) Chapter 16 (Conversation In England Of Jehane The Fair) Pg 89Were Pulling Different Ways, Each Trying To Get The Rope To Himself.
With That Rope John Hoped To Hang His Brother Yet. 'Dearest Madame,' He
Said, 'Richard Cannot Marry In Navarre Even If He Were Willing. Once He
Has Been Betrothed, And Has Broken Plight; Once He Saw His Mistress
Betrothed, And Broke Her Plight. Now He Is Wedded, Or Says That He Is.
Suppose That You Get Him To Break This Wedlock, Will You Give Him
Another Woman To Deceive? There Is No More Faithless Beast In The World
Than Richard.'
'Your Words Prove That There Is One At Least,' Said The Queen-Mother
With Heat. 'You Speak Very Ill, My Son.'
Said John, 'And He Does Very Ill, By The Bread!'
William Marshal Interposed. 'I Have Seen Much Of The Countess Of Anjou,
Madame,' Said This Honest Gentleman. 'Let Me Tell Your Grace That She Is
A Most Exalted Lady.' He Would Have Said More Had The Queen-Mother
Endured It, But She Cried Out Upon Him.
'Anjou! Who Dares Put Her Up There?'
'Madame,' Said William, 'It Was My Lord The King.' The Queen Fumed.
Then The Archbishop Said, 'She Is Nobly Born, Of The House Of Saint-Pol.
I Understand That She Has A Clear Mind.'
'More,' Cried The Marshal, 'She Has A Clear Heart!'
'If She Had Nothing Clear About Her I Have That Which Would Bleach Her
White Enough,' Said The Queen-Mother; And Longchamp, Who Had Said
Nothing At All, Grinned.
In The Event, The Queen One Day Took To Her Barge, Crossed The River,
And Confronted The Girl Who Stood Between England And Navarre.
Jehane, Who Was Sitting With Her Ladies At Needlework, Was Not So Scared
As They Were. Like The Nymphs Of The Hunting Maid They All Clustered
About Her, Showing The Queen-Mother How Tall She Was And How Nobly
Figured. She Flushed A Little And Breathed A Little Faster; But Making
Her Reverence She Recovered Herself, And Stood With That Curious Look On
Her Face, Half Surprise, Half Discontent, Which Made Men Call Her The
Sulky Fair. So The Queen-Mother Read The Look.
'No Pouting With Me, Mistress,' She Said. 'Send These Women Away. It Is
With You I Have To Deal.'
'Do We Deal Singly, Madame?' Said Jehane. 'Then My Ladies Shall Seek For
Yours The Comforts Of A Discomfortable Lodging. I Am Sorry I Have No
Better.' The Queen-Mother Nodded Her People Out Of The Room; So She And
Jehane Were Left Alone Together.
'Mistress,' Said The Queen-Mother, 'What Is This Between You And My Son?
Playing And Kissing Are To Be Left Below The Degrees Of A Throne. Let
There Be No More Of It. Do You Dare, Are You So Hardy In The Eyes, As To
Look Up To A Kingly Seat, Or Measure Your Head For A King's Crown?'
Jehane Had Plenty Of Spirit, Which A Very Little Of This Sort Of Talk
Would Have Fanned Into A Flame; But She Had Irony Too.
'Madame, Alas!' She Said, With A Hint Of Shrugging; 'If I Have Worn The
Count's Cap I Know The Measure Of My Head.'
The Queen-Mother Took Her By The Wrist 'My Girl,' Said She, 'You Know
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