convalescent when, after nearly ten days' isolation on the island, Edward drew out his whole force upon the shore to do honour to the embarkation of the relics of Louis IX. It was one of the most solemn and melancholy pageants that could be conceived. A wide lane of mailed soldiers was drawn up, Sicilians and Provencals on the one side, and on the other, English and the Knights of the two Orders. All stood, or sat on horseback in shining steel, guarding the way along which were carried the coffins. In memory, perhaps, of Louis's own words, 'I, your leader, am going first,' his remains headed the procession, closely followed by those of his young son; and behind it marched his two brothers, Charles and Alfonse, and his son-in-law, the King of Navarre (the two latter already bearing the seeds of the fatal malady), and the three English princes, Edward, Edmund, and Henry of Almayne, each followed by his immediate suite. The long line of coffins of French counts and nobles, whose lives had in like manner been sacrificed, brought up the rear; and alas! how many nameless dead must have been left in the ruins!
Each coffin when brought to the shore was placed in a boat, and with muffled oars transplanted to the vessel ready to receive it, while the troops remained drawn up on the shore. The procession that ensued was almost more mournful. It was still of biers, but these were not of the dead but of the living, and again the foremost was the King of France, while next to him came his sister, the Queen of Navarre. Edward went down to his litter, as it was brought on the beach, and offered him his arm as he feebly stepped forth to enter the boat. Philippe looked up to his tall cousin, and wrung his hands as he murmured, 'Alas! what is to be the end of all this?' Edward made kind and cheerful reply, that things would look better when they met at Trapani, and then almost lifted the young king into his boat. Poor youth, he had not yet seen the end! He was yet to lose his wife, his brother-in-law, and his uncle and aunt, ere he should see his home again.
Richard and Hamlyn de Valence, as part of the Prince's train, had moved in the procession; and they were for the rest of the day in close attendance on their lord, conveying his numerous orders for the embarkation of the troops on the morrow, on their return to Sicily. It was not till night-fall that Richard returned to his tent, where John of Dunster was sitting on the sand at the door, eagerly watching for him. 'Well, Jack, my lad, how hast thou sped?' asked he, advancing. 'Couldst see our doleful array?'
'Is it thou, indeed, this time?' said the boy, catching at his cloak.
'Why, who should it be?'
'Thy wraith! Thy double-ganger has been here Richard.'
'What, dreaming again?'
'No no! I am well, I am strong. But this IS the land of enchantment! Thou knowst it is. Did we not see a fleet of fairy boats sailing on the sea? and a leaf eat up a fly here on this very tent pole? And did not the Fay Morgaine show us towns and castles and churches in the sea? Thou didst not call me light-headed then, Richard; thou sawest it too!'
'But this wraith of mine! Where didst see it?'
'In this tent. I was lying on the sand, trying if I could make it hold enough to build a castle of it, when the curtain was put back, and there thou stoodest, Richard!'
'Well, did I speak or vanish?'
'Oh, thou spakest-I mean the THING spake, and it said, 'Is this the tent of the young Lord of Montfort?' How now-what have I said?'
'Whom did he ask for?' demanded Richard breathlessly.
'Montfort-young Lord de Montfort!' replied John; 'I know it was, for he said it twice over.'
'And what didst thou answer?'
'What should I answer? I said we had no Montforts here; for they were all dishonoured traitors, slain and outlawed.'
Richard could not restrain a sudden indignant exclamation that startled the boy. 'Every one says so! My father says so!' he returned, somewhat defiantly.
'Not of the Earl,' said Richard, recollecting himself.
'He said every one of the young Montforts was a foul traitor, and man-sworn tyrant, as bad as King John had been ere the Charter,' repeated John hotly, 'and their father was as bad, since he would give no redress. Thou knowst how they served us in Somerset and Devon!'
'I have heard, I have heard,' said Richard, cutting short the story, and controlling his own burning pain, glad that the darkness concealed his face. 'No more of that; but tell me, what said this stranger?'
'Thou thinkest it was really a stranger, and not thy wraith?' said John anxiously. 'I hope it was, for Dame Idonea said if it were a wraith, it betokened that thou wouldst not-live long-and oh, Richard! I could not spare thee!'
And the little fellow came nestling up to his friend's breast in an access of tenderness, such as perhaps he would have disdained save in the darkness.
'Did Dame Idonea see him?' asked Richard.
'No; but she came in soon after he had vanished.'
'Vanished! What, like Fay Morgaine's castles? Tell me in sooth, John; it imports me to know. What did this stranger, when thou spakest thus of the House of Montfort?'
'He answered,' said John; 'he did not answer courteously-he said, that I was a malapert little ass, and demanded again where this young Montfort's tent was. So then I said, that if a Montfort dared to show his traitor's face in this camp, the Prince would hang him as high as Judas; for I wanted to be rid of him, Richard! it was so dreadful to see thy face, and hear thy voice talking French, and asking for dead traitors.'
'French!' said Richard. 'Methought thou knewst no French!'
'I-I have heard it long now, more's the pity,' faltered John, 'and- and I'd have spoken anything to be rid of that shape.'
'And wert thou rid? What befell then?'
'It cursed the Prince, and King, and all of them,' said John with a shudder; 'it looked black and deadly, and I crossed myself, and said the Blessed Name, and no doubt it writhed itself and went off in brimstone and smoke, for I shut my eyes, and when I looked up again it was gone!'
'Gone! Didst look after him?'
'Oh, no! Earthly things are all food for a brave man's sword,' said Master John, drawing himself up very valiantly, 'but wraiths and things from beneath-they do scare the very heart out of a man. And I lay, I don't know how, till Dame Idonea came in; and she said either the foul fiend had put on thy shape because he boded thee ill, or it was one of the traitor brood looking for his like.'
'Tell me, John,' said Richard anxiously; 'surely he was not in all points like me. Had he our English white cross?'
'I cannot say as to the cross,' said John; 'meseemed it was all you- yourself-and that was all-only I thought your voice was strange and hollow-and-now I think of it-yes-he was bearded-brown bearded. And,' with a sudden thought, 'stand up, prithee, in the opening of the tent;' and then taking his post where he had been sitting at the time of the apparition, 'He was not so tall as thou art. Thy head comes above the fold of the curtain, and his, I know, did not touch it, for I saw the light over it. Then thou dost not think it was thy wraith?' he added anxiously.
'I think my wraith would have measured me more exactly both in stature and in age,' said Richard lightly. 'But how did Leonillo comport himself? He brooks not a stranger in general; and dogs cannot endure the presence of a spirit.'
'Ah! but he fawned upon this one, and thrust his nose into his hand,' said John, 'and I think he must have run after him; for it was so long ere he came back to me, that I had feared greatly he was gone, and oh, Richard! then I must have gone too! I could never have met you without Leonillo.'
By this time Richard had little doubt that the visitor must have been one of his brothers, Simon or Guy, who were not unlikely to be among the Provencals, in the army of Charles of Anjou. He had not been thought to resemble them as a boy, but he had observed how much more alike brothers appear to strangers than they do to their own family; and he knew by occasional observations from the Prince, as well as from his brother Henry's recognition of his voice, that the old Montfort characteristics must be strong in himself. He would not, however, avow his belief to John of Dunster. Secrecy on his own birth had been enjoined on him by his uncle the King; and disobedience to the old man's most trifling commands was always sharply resented by the Prince; nor was the boy's view of the House of Montfort very favourable to such a declaration. Richard really loved the brave little fellow, and trusted that some day when the discovery must be made, it would be coupled with some exploit that would show it
