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Sir Athelstane of Coningsburgh.”

The knight made his obeisance, and showed his sense of the honour by draining a huge goblet in answer to it.

“And now, sirs,” said Prince John, who began to be warmed with the wine which he had drank, “having done justice to our Saxon guests, we will pray of them some requital to our courtesy.⁠—Worthy Thane,” he continued, addressing Cedric, “may we pray you to name to us some Norman whose mention may least sully your mouth, and to wash down with a goblet of wine all bitterness which the sound may leave behind it?”

Fitzurse arose while Prince John spoke, and gliding behind the seat of the Saxon, whispered to him not to omit the opportunity of putting an end to unkindness betwixt the two races, by naming Prince John. The Saxon replied not to this politic insinuation, but, rising up, and filling his cup to the brim, he addressed Prince John in these words: “Your highness has required that I should name a Norman deserving to be remembered at our banquet. This, perchance, is a hard task, since it calls on the slave to sing the praises of the master⁠—upon the vanquished, while pressed by all the evils of conquest, to sing the praises of the conqueror. Yet I will name a Norman⁠—the first in arms and in place⁠—the best and the noblest of his race. And the lips that shall refuse to pledge me to his well-earned fame, I term false and dishonoured, and will so maintain them with my life.⁠—I quaff this goblet to the health of Richard the Lionhearted!”

Prince John, who had expected that his own name would have closed the Saxon’s speech, started when that of his injured brother was so unexpectedly introduced. He raised mechanically the wine-cup to his lips, then instantly set it down, to view the demeanour of the company at this unexpected proposal, which many of them felt it as unsafe to oppose as to comply with. Some of them, ancient and experienced courtiers, closely imitated the example of the Prince himself, raising the goblet to their lips, and again replacing it before them. There were many who, with a more generous feeling, exclaimed, “Long live King Richard! and may he be speedily restored to us!” And some few, among whom were Front-de-Boeuf and the Templar, in sullen disdain suffered their goblets to stand untasted before them. But no man ventured directly to gainsay a pledge filled to the health of the reigning monarch.

Having enjoyed his triumph for about a minute, Cedric said to his companion, “Up, noble Athelstane! we have remained here long enough, since we have requited the hospitable courtesy of Prince John’s banquet. Those who wish to know further of our rude Saxon manners must henceforth seek us in the homes of our fathers, since we have seen enough of royal banquets, and enough of Norman courtesy.”

So saying, he arose and left the banqueting room, followed by Athelstane, and by several other guests, who, partaking of the Saxon lineage, held themselves insulted by the sarcasms of Prince John and his courtiers.

“By the bones of St. Thomas,” said Prince John, as they retreated, “the Saxon churls have borne off the best of the day, and have retreated with triumph!”

Conclamatum est, poculatum est,” said Prior Aymer; “we have drunk and we have shouted⁠—it were time we left our wine flagons.”

“The monk hath some fair penitent to shrive tonight, that he is in such a hurry to depart,” said De Bracy.

“Not so, Sir Knight,” replied the Abbot; “but I must move several miles forward this evening upon my homeward journey.”

“They are breaking up,” said the Prince in a whisper to Fitzurse; “their fears anticipate the event, and this coward Prior is the first to shrink from me.”

“Fear not, my lord,” said Waldemar; “I will show him such reasons as shall induce him to join us when we hold our meeting at York.⁠—Sir Prior,” he said, “I must speak with you in private, before you mount your palfrey.”

The other guests were now fast dispersing, with the exception of those immediately attached to Prince John’s faction, and his retinue.

“This, then, is the result of your advice,” said the Prince, turning an angry countenance upon Fitzurse; “that I should be bearded at my own board by a drunken Saxon churl, and that, on the mere sound of my brother’s name, men should fall off from me as if I had the leprosy?”

“Have patience, sir,” replied his counsellor; “I might retort your accusation, and blame the inconsiderate levity which foiled my design, and misled your own better judgment. But this is no time for recrimination. De Bracy and I will instantly go among these shuffling cowards, and convince them they have gone too far to recede.”

“It will be in vain,” said Prince John, pacing the apartment with disordered steps, and expressing himself with an agitation to which the wine he had drank partly contributed⁠—“It will be in vain⁠—they have seen the handwriting on the wall⁠—they have marked the paw of the lion in the sand⁠—they have heard his approaching roar shake the wood⁠—nothing will reanimate their courage.”

“Would to God,” said Fitzurse to De Bracy, “that aught could reanimate his own! His brother’s very name is an ague to him. Unhappy are the counsellors of a Prince, who wants fortitude and perseverance alike in good and in evil!”

XV

And yet he thinks⁠—ha, ha, ha, ha⁠—he thinks
I am the tool and servant of his will.
Well, let it be; through all the maze of trouble
His plots and base oppression must create,
I’ll shape myself a way to higher things,
And who will say ’tis wrong?

Basil, a Tragedy

No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered meshes of his web, than did Waldemar Fitzurse to reunite and combine the scattered members of Prince John’s cabal. Few of these were attached to him from inclination, and none from personal regard. It was therefore necessary, that Fitzurse should open

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