"But come, my Lord de Vaux," he continued,
"wend we to the tent of this sick squire, where we shall learn
whether this Hakim hath really the art of curing which he
professeth, ere we consider whether there be safety in permitting
him to exercise his art upon King Richard.--Yet, hold! let me
first take my pouncet-box, for these fevers spread like an
infection. I would advise you to use dried rosemary steeped in
vinegar, my lord. I, too, know something of the healing art."
"I thank your reverend lordship," replied Thomas of Gilsland;
"but had I been accessible to the fever, I had caught it long
since by the bed of my master."
The Bishop of Tyre blushed, for he had rather avoided the
presence of the sick monarch; and he bid the baron lead on.
As they paused before the wretched hut in which Kenneth of the
Leopard and his follower abode, the bishop said to De Vaux, "Now,
of a surety, my lord, these Scottish Knights have worse care of
their followers than we of our dogs. Here is a knight, valiant,
they say, in battle, and thought fitting to be graced with
charges of weight in time of truce, whose esquire of the body is
lodged worse than in the worst dog-kennel in England.
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