King Richard! and may he be speedily restored to us!” And some few, among whom were Front-de- Bœuf 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 to-night, 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 drunk 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.”