King Canute is dead and gone: Parasites exist alway."
At this ballad, which, to be sure, was awfully long, and as grave as a
sermon, some of the courtiers tittered, some yawned, and some affected
to be asleep and snore outright. But Roger de Backbite thinking to curry
favor with the King by this piece of vulgarity, his Majesty fetched
him a knock on the nose and a buffet on the ear, which, I warrant me,
wakened Master Roger; to whom the King said, "Listen and be civil,
slave; Wilfrid is singing about thee.--Wilfrid, thy ballad is long, but
it is to the purpose, and I have grown cool during thy homily. Give
me thy hand, honest friend. Ladies, good night. Gentlemen, we give the
grand assault to-morrow; when I promise thee, Wilfrid, thy banner shall
not be before mine."--And the King, giving his arm to her Majesty,
retired into the private pavilion.
CHAPTER III.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
Whilst the royal Richard and his court were feasting in the camp outside
the walls of Chalus, they of the castle were in the most miserable
plight that may be conceived. Hunger, as well as the fierce assaults
of the besiegers, had made dire ravages in the place. The garrison's
provisions of corn and cattle, their very horses, dogs, and donkeys had
been eaten up--so that it might well be said by Wamba "that famine, as
well as slaughter, had THINNED the garrison.
Pages:
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463