CHAPTER XXIII. HOW ENGLAND HELD THE LISTS AT BORDEAUX.

donext,whenwehavedriventhisbastardHenryfromthekingdomwhichhehathfilched?” “WeshallthencompeltheKingofAragontoplaceourgoodfriendandbrotherJamesofMajorcauponthethrone.” “Nobleandgenerousprince!”criedthelittlemonarch. “Thatdone,”saidKingPedro,glancingoutofthecornersofhiseyesattheyoungconqueror,“weshallunitetheforcesofEngland,ofAquitaine,ofSpainandofMajorca.Itwouldbeshametousifwedidnotdosomegreatdeedwithsuchforcesreadytoourhand.” “Yousaytruly,brother,”criedtheprince,hiseyeskindlingatthethought.“MethinksthatwecouldnotdoanythingmorepleasingtoOurLadythantodrivetheheathenMoorsoutofthecountry.” “Iamwithyou,Edward,astrueashilttoblade.But,bySt.James!weshallnotlettheseMoorsmakemockatusfromoverthesea.WemusttakeshipandthrustthemfromAfrica.” “Byheaven,yes!”criedtheprince.“AnditisthedreamofmyheartthatourEnglishpennonsshallwaveupontheMountofOlives,andthelionsandliliesfloatovertheholycity.” “Andwhynot,dearcoz?YourbowmenhaveclearedapathtoParis,andwhynottoJerusalem?Oncethere,yourarmsmightrest.” “Nay,thereismoretobedone,”criedtheprince,carriedawaybytheambitiousdream.“ThereisstillthecityofConstantinetobetaken,andwartobewagedagainsttheSoldanofDamascus.AndbeyondhimagainthereistributetobeleviedfromtheChamofTartaryandfromthekingdomofCathay.Ha!John,whatsayyou?CanwenotgoasfareastwardasRichardoftheLionHeart?” “OldJohnwillbideathome,sire,”saidtheruggedsoldier.“Bymysoul!aslongasIamseneschalofAquitaineIwillfindenoughtodoinguardingthemarcheswhichyouhaveentrustedtome.ItwouldbeablithedayfortheKingofFrancewhenheheardthattheseaslaybetweenhimandus.” “Bymysoul!John,”saidtheprince,“Ihaveneverknownyouturnlaggardbefore.” “Thebabblinghound,sire,isnotalwaysthefirstatthemort,”theoldknightanswered. “Nay,mytrue-heart!Ihavetriedyoutoooftennottoknow.But,bymysoul!IhavenotseensodenseathrongsincethedaythatwebroughtKingJohndownCheapside.” Itwasindeedanenormouscrowdwhichcoveredthewholevastplainfromthelineofvineyardstotheriverbank.Fromthenortherngatetheprinceandhiscompanionslookeddownatadarkseaofheads,brightenedhereandtherebythecoloredhoodsofthewomen,orbythesparklinghead-piecesofarchersandmen-at-arms.Inthecentreofthisvastassemblagethelistsseemedbutanarrowstripofgreenmarkedoutwithbannersandstreamers,whileagleamofwhitewithaflutterofpennonsateitherendshowedwherethemarqueeswerepitchedwhichservedasthedressing-roomsofthecombatants.Apathhadbeenstakedofffromthecitygatetothestandswhichhadbeenerectedforthecourtandthenobility.Downthis,amidtheshoutsoftheenormousmultitude,theprincecanteredwithhistwoattendantkings,hishighofficersofstate,andhislongtrainoflordsandladies,courtiers,counsellors,andsoldiers,withtossofplumeandflashofjewel,sheenofsilkandglintofgold—asrichandgallantashowasheartcouldwish.Theheadofthecavalcadehadreachedthelistseretherearhadcomeclearofthecitygate,forthefairestandthebravesthadassembledfromallthebroadlandswhicharewateredbytheDordogneandtheGaronne.Hererodedark-browedcavaliersfromthesunnysouth,fierysoldiersfromGascony,gracefulcourtiersofLimousinorSaintonge,andgallantyoungEnglishmenfrombeyondtheseas.HeretoowerethebeautifulbrunettesoftheGironde,witheyeswhichout-flashedtheirjewels,whilebesidethemrodetheirblondesistersofEngland,clearcutandaquiline,swathedinswans'-downandinermine,fortheairwasbitingthoughthesunwasbright.Slowlythelongandglitteringtrainwoundintothelists,untileveryhorsehadbeentetheredbythevarletsinwaiting,andeverylordandladyseatedinthelongstandswhichstret