Without regarding the tumult, Richard pursued his way, followed only by De Vaux and a few servants; but the Knight of the Leopard, as they passed him, aware that danger must be afoot, snatched his sword and shield, and hastened to share it.  Richard burst his way through a crowd of the Archduke’s friends and retinue, pulled up the standard-spear, threw the Austrian banner on the ground, and placed his foot upon it.

“Thus,” said he, “I trample on the banner of Austria!”

A Hungarian nobleman struck at the king a blow that might have proved fatal had not the Scot intercepted it, while Richard glanced round him with an eye from which the angry nobles shrank appalled, until the King of France, whose sagacity Richard much respected, came and remonstrated.  The duke at last said he would refer his quarrel to the General Council of the Crusade.

Richard listened to Philip until his oratory seemed exhausted, then said aloud: 

“I am drowsy—­this fever hangs upon me still.  Brother of France, know, at once, I will submit a matter touching the honour of England neither to prince, pope, nor council.  Here stands my banner—­whatever pennon shall be reared within three butts’ length of it—­shall be treated as that dishonoured rag.”

Philip answered calmly he would have no other strife between the Lions of England and the Lilies of France than which should be carried deepest into the ranks of the infidels.  Richard stretched out his hand, with all the frankness of his rash but generous disposition, and replied: 

“It is a bargain, my royal brother!  Here, Thomas of Gilsland, I give thee charge of this standard—­watch over the honour of England.”

“Her safety is yet more dear to me,” said De Vaux, “and the life of Richard is the safety of England.  I must have your highness back to your tent without further tarriance.”

“Thou art a rough and peremptory nurse, De Vaux,” said the king, and then addressing Sir Kenneth:  “Valiant Scot, I owe thee a boon; and I will repay it richly.  There stands the banner of England!  Watch it as a novice doth his armour.  Stir not from it three spears’ lengths, and defend it with thy body against injury or insult—­Dost thou undertake the charge?”

“Willingly,” said Kenneth, “and will discharge it upon penalty of my head.  I will but arm me and return thither instantly.”

Those whom the disturbance had assembled now drew off in various directions, and the Marquis of Montserrat said to the Grand Master of the Templars: 

“Thou seest that subtle courses are more effective than violence.  I have unloosed the bonds which held together this bunch of sceptres and lances—­thou wilt see them shortly fall asunder.”

III.—­Richard and Sir Kenneth

It was about sunrise when a slow armed tread was heard approaching the king’s pavilion and De Vaux had time to do no more than arise when the Knight of the Leopard entered, with deep gloom on his manly features.  Richard, awaking on the instant, exclaimed: