Part 22

"To you, Sire, I commit the protection of my rights, and to you I now do homage for all my father's dominions in France!"

Philip accepted his homage, and gave to Richard all the cities taken from Henry. Naturally, that king was enraged when his son thus haughtily renounced allegiance to him, and war soon followed. Henry was defeated several times, and many of his barons left him to join the cause of Richard. Finally, the king was forced to make peace with his rebellious son on very hard conditions; and this mortified his kingly pride so sorely that he fell ill of grief and rage. During this sickness, he could think of nothing save his own defeat, and raved constantly, "Shame, shame on a conquered king!" When he learned that his best-beloved son, John, had been a party to Richard's rebellion, the blow was too severe for the old king's broken strength. He died of grief, cursing his rebellious sons with his last breath.

No sooner had the fierce but affectionate Richard heard of his father's death at Chinon than he was overcome with sorrow and remorse. He came to take leave of the king's body, but as he drew near the bier, blood gushed from the eyes and mouth of the dead man. Richard was horror-stricken, and rushed away, exclaiming,--

"I have murdered him; his blood accuses me!"

The repentant son caused the corpse to be buried with due ceremony at Fontevraud, the ancient burial-place of the Norman kings, and he showed many signs of penitence for his unfilial conduct.

As soon as the unhappy old king had been laid away, Richard's thoughts turned to his mother, Eleanor, who had been for many years a state prisoner in Winchester Castle. Sending at once to England, he ordered that the queen be released, and appointed regent of the kingdom. Indeed, Richard was always a tender and dutiful son to his mother, who calls him, "My brave, my generous, my high-minded, my all-worthy son, Richard." If he were not a good son to his father also, it is some excuse that Henry was a most unpleasant, tyrannical man, whose treatment of his wife and children was not such as to beget love and dutiful conduct.

After tarrying some months in France, attending to matters in his provinces of Anjou, Poitou, Normandy, and Aquitaine, Richard crossed over to England. There he was received most joyfully by his new subjects.

In Westminster Abbey, on Sept. 3, 1189, his coronation took place with great splendor. It is the first coronation ceremony of an English king fully described by eye-witnesses.

The Archbishop of Canterbury and other bishops, richly robed, and carrying the cross, holy water, and censers, led the stately procession that escorted the king from his palace to the Abbey. After these dignitaries of the Church, came four barons in court dress, bearing each a golden candlestick; then four earls, carrying the king's cup, the golden spurs, the scepter of state, and the royal rod of majesty--a mace adorned with a golden dove. Four great earls walked next, brandishing aloft their glittering swords; and behind these noblemen marched six more, as bearers of the royal robes and regalia. William, Earl of Essex, proudly carried the gold and jeweled crown immediately before Richard himself, who walked beneath a magnificent canopy of state, upheld by richly clad nobles.

Before the brilliant assemblage of lords Richard took the solemn oath to be a just and righteous ruler. Then after the archbishop had anointed him with holy oil, shoes of golden tissue were put on the king's feet, the golden spurs were buckled on, and he was clad in the vestments of royalty and led to the high altar. There he promised to be faithful to his kingly oath, and was crowned with the royal diadem and given the scepter and rod of office.

So Richard Plantagenet became King of England. No one beholding the proud bearing of the new monarch would have supposed that his family emblem, the lowly broom-plant (Planta genista), from which came the name Plantagenet, had been adopted by an ancestor of Richard's in token of humility. For, in very truth, the Plantagenets were an arrogant race, and Richard was the proudest of his line.

As he strode down the aisle of Westminster in all the glittering and jeweled splendor of his coronation robes, Richard's appearance was truly royal. He looked every inch a king. The people gazed with delight on his tall, powerful frame, graceful and strong as that of Mars himself; on his proudly poised head, whose red-gold curls waved beneath the jeweled crown; on the fair, haughty face with its square, determined jaw, aquiline nose, full, proud lips, and fierce, restless blue eyes. Heartily the multitude admired Richard's manly beauty, his lordly air; and with a right good-will they shouted joyously: "Long live the king! Long live our Richard Lionheart!"

Before his accession to the throne, Richard had determined to go as a Crusader to the rescue of the Holy Land. From his mother, who had herself taken part in the Second Crusade, he had heard many stories of the East,--that land of wonders and marvelous adventures. Richard was by nature a rover, a warrior, a knight-errant. So it seemed to him a most delightful prospect to travel, to see strange lands and peoples, to fight in a holy war; and thus to indulge his own love of adventure and of battle while advancing the glory of God. Nay, to do him justice, Richard was religious too, in the strange fierce fashion of those days,--days when one could be pious without being good; when the warrior prayed and fought with equal zeal, deeming both acts of equal merit in the sight of heaven; when the Christian believed the slaughter of infidels well-pleasing to God; when the knight of the Cross was confident that Christ pardoned all sins to the warrior who did battle for His Holy Sepulchre. So Richard, though far from pious or exemplary in his daily life, was moved by a genuine and fervent desire to deliver Jerusalem from the infidels, into whose hands it had fallen again after its conquest by Godfrey de Bouillon.

When all the tedious and costly preparations necessary for the Crusade had been completed, Richard sent his fleet around by the Strait of Gibraltar. He himself crossed over to France with the troops, intending to march through that country to meet his ships at Marseilles, and there to embark for Palestine.

At Vézelai, Richard met Philip of France, who had agreed to join him in the Crusade. The two kings and their great armies marched together for some distance, but finally separated, and proceeded southward by different routes,--the French to Genoa, the English to Marseilles.

When Richard reached that seaport, he was much disappointed to find that the fleet had not arrived. Leaving the main body of troops there to await the arrival of the vessels, he procured a ship, and proceeded on his way by sea, sailing along the coast of France and Italy. He stopped at many cities, and sometimes traveled on land with only a few attendants, like a simple knight-errant.

When he reached the Gulf of Salernum, Richard was joined by his fleet, and sailed toward Messina, a coast town of Sicily, where he was to meet Philip. On approaching the city, Richard ordered every trumpet to be sounded. The people, rushing to the walls, beheld with surprise the great fleet of England, manned by thousands of steel-clad warriors, and flying the red cross of Saint George, the lion-emblazoned banner of Richard, and hundreds of gay baronial flags. The arrival is thus described:--

"O Holy Mary, no man ever saw Such galleys, such dromonds, such transports before; Rowing on, rowing on, across the deep sea, Rowing on, rowing on to fair Sicily!

"What pennons and banners from the top of the spears To the fair winds are streaming all graceful and proud; What a great host of warriors, whose breasts know no fears Pace the decks, whilst the oarsmen are chanting aloud-- Row on, lads, row on, lads, across the deep sea; Crowd the sail and row on, lads, to fair Sicily!

"Hark, hark to the voice of the trumpets so clear As they enter the harbor and make for the pier; See what bright gilded beaks, what finely wrought bows, And what thousands of shields hang out on the prows. Oh! such a staunch fleet never sailed on the sea As this armament anchored off fair Sicily.

"And now from his trim galley, named Cut-the-Sea The proud Richard lands midst uproarious glee; Clad in bright scale-linked mail with axe in his hand, He, the chief of his hero band, paces the strand, Whilst the people and warriors in wild ecstasy, Shout hurrah for King Richard and fair Sicily!"

Such was the brilliant spectacle of Coeur-de-Lion's arrival in Sicily. When Richard had landed and camped near Messina, he sent envoys at once to Tancred, the King of Sicily, who had usurped the throne and imprisoned Richard's sister Joan, widow of the former king. These envoys were bidden to demand of Tancred the instant release of Joan, the payment of her dowry, and the delivery of a rich legacy which Richard asserted had been left by her husband to Henry II. This bequest included a gold table twelve feet long, twenty-four gold cups and saucers, a large silk tent, and a hundred fine galleys. On receiving King Richard's peremptory message, Tancred at once sent Joan to her royal brother with a large sum of money, but denied any knowledge of the rich legacy that Richard claimed.

Now the French king had previously arrived in Sicily, and the forces of both kings were encamped about Messina. There was much jealousy between the two monarchs. Philip was envious of Richard's greater fame as a warrior, and Richard resented the fact that as Duke of Normandy he was a vassal of the French king. This feeling of ill-will extended to the soldiers of the two armies, hostile from birth, and gave rise to much quarreling and continual brawls. The French contrived to arouse in the people of Sicily a suspicious dread of the King of England. So when these natives saw Richard building and fortifying strongholds, they concluded that he intended to take possession of their island. Then fierce disputes arose between them and the English soldiers.

At length, the trouble ended in an open fight; and Richard promptly attacked the city of Messina. Though the French sided with the natives, who were fifty thousand strong, "King Richard got possession of Messina quicker than any priest could chant matins. Aye, and many more of the citizens would have perished had not the King in his compassion ordered their lives to be spared."

After the capture of the city, King Tancred agreed to give Richard forty thousand ounces of gold in lieu of all claims against him in behalf of Joan. Richard accepted this offer, and peace was restored. One-third of the money he gave to Philip, and the two kings made a new compact of friendship, solemnly swearing to be faithful to each other in all things during this Crusade.

A period of peace followed, during which the kings and nobles amused themselves in various ways while awaiting a favorable season for their voyage to Palestine.

One day while riding, Richard and Philip met a peasant bringing a load of tough canes to town. The two kings and all their knights took each a reed, and using it as a lance, began to tilt against one another. Richard and a French knight, William des Barres, charged each other. The reeds were shattered, and the headpiece of Richard was broken. Enraged at this mishap, the king dashed furiously on William, but his own saddle was upset, and he fell to the ground "quicker than he liked."

Hastily mounting a fresh horse, Richard again attacked Des Barres, but could not unhorse the knight, who stuck fast to his saddle. Then the Earl of Leicester attempted to aid Richard, but the king cried, "Let be, Robert; hold off and leave us alone!" But when, after many vain efforts, he had failed to overthrow the stout French warrior, Richard flew into a terrific rage, and cried, "Get thee hence, and appear no more before me, for I shall be thine enemy hereafter!" Whereupon William des Barres withdrew in much distress of mind, and asked the intercession of the King of France. Not until Philip, all the bishops, and the chiefs of the army had repeatedly besought Richard for grace, would the mortified king consent to the peaceable return of the knight. So unwise is it to successfully combat a king!