"What answer, then, am I to return to the noble Soldan?" said
Richard. "The kings and princes are falling from me, Edith; this
new quarrel hath alienated them once more. I would do something
for the Holy Sepulchre by composition, if not by victory; and the
chance of my doing this depends, alas, on the caprice of a woman.
I would lay my single spear in the rest against ten of the best
lances in Christendom, rather than argue with a wilful wench who
knows not what is for her own good. What answer, coz, am I to
return to the Soldan? It must be decisive."
"Tell him," said Edith, "that the poorest of the Plantagenets
will rather wed with misery than with misbelief."
"Shall I say with slavery, Edith?" said the King. "Methinks that
is nearer thy thoughts."
"There is no room," said Edith, "for the suspicion you so grossly
insinuate. Slavery of the body might have been pitied, but that
of the soul is only to be despised. Shame to thee, King of merry
England. Thou hast enthralled both the limbs and the spirit of a
knight, one scarce less famed than thyself.
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