of All Saints, and year by year in succession, at this same feast.”  Some of their amusements were not more refined than their family arrangements, and ruffianly contests and violent enmities sprang up amidst the feasts and the games in which kings and knights nearly every evening indulged in the plains round about Messina.  One day there came amongst the crusaders thus assembled a peasant driving an ass, laden with those long and strong reeds known by the name of canes.  English and French, with Richard at their head, bought them of him; and, mounting on horseback, ran tilt at one another, armed with these reeds by way of lances.  Richard found himself opposite to a French knight, named William des Barres, of whose strength and valor he had already, not without displeasure, had experience in Normandy.  The two champions met with so rude a shock that their reeds broke, and the king’s cloak was torn.  Richard, in pique, urged his horse violently against the French knight, in order to make him lose his stirrups; but William kept a firm seat, whilst the king fell under his horse, which came down in his impetuosity.  Richard, more and more exasperated, had another horse brought, and charged a second time, but with no more success, the immovable knight.  One of Richard’s favorites, the Earl of Leicester, would have taken his place, and avenged his lord; but “let be, Robert,” said the king:  “it is a matter between him and me;” and he once more attacked William des Barres, and once more to no purpose.  “Fly from my sight,” cried he to the knight, “and take care never to appear again; for I will be ever a mortal foe to thee, to thee and thine.”  William des Barres, somewhat discomfited, went in search of the King of France, to put himself under his protection.  Philip accordingly paid a visit to Richard, who merely said, “I’ll not hear a word.”  It needed nothing less than the prayers of the bishops, and even, it is said, a threat of excommunication, to induce Richard to grant William des Barres the king’s peace during the time of pilgrimage.

Such a comrade was assuredly very inconvenient, and might be under difficult circumstances very dangerous.  Philip, without being susceptible or quarrelsome, was naturally independent, and disposed to act, on every occasion, according to his own ideas.  He resolved, not to break with Richard, but to divide their commands, and separate their fortunes.  On the approach of spring, 1191, he announced to him that the time had arrived for continuing their pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and that, as for himself, he was quite ready to set out.  “I am not ready,” said Richard; “and I cannot depart before the middle of August.”  Philip, after some discussion, set out alone, with his army, on the 30th of March, and on the 14th of April arrived before St. Jean d’.Acre.  This important place, of which Saladin had made himself master nearly four years before, was being besieged by the last King of Jerusalem, Guy de Lusignan, at the head of the Christians