“I fear, my lords,” the king said to his knights as he sat in a little room in an inn at Zara, “that my plight is a bad one.  I am surrounded by enemies, and, alas!  I can no longer mount my steed and ride out as at Jaffa to do battle with them.  My brother, John Lackland, is scheming to take my place upon the throne of England.  Philip of France, whose mind is far better at such matters than at setting armies in the field, is in league with him.  The Emperor Henry has laid claim to the throne of Sicily.  Leopold of Austria has not forgiven me the blow I struck him in the face at Ascalon, and the friends of Conrad of Montferat are spreading far and wide the lie that I was the instigator of his murder.  Sure never had a poor king so many enemies, and few have ever had so small a following as I have now.  What think you, my lords?  What course would you advise that I should adopt?  If I can reach Saxony, doubtless Otho will aid me.  But hence to Dresden is a long journey indeed.  I have neither credit nor funds to hire a ship to take us by sea.  Nor would such a voyage be a safe one, when so many of my enemies’ ships are on the main.  I must needs, I think, go in disguise, for my way lies wholly through the country of my enemies.”

“Surely,” Cuthbert said, “no potentate could for very shame venture to detain your Majesty on your way from the Holy Land, where you have wrought such great deeds.  Were I in your place, I would at once proclaim myself, mount my horse, have my banner carried before me, and ride openly on.  You have, too, another claim, namely, that of being shipwrecked, and even in war-time nations respect those whom the force of God has thrown upon their shores.”

“I fear me, Sir Cuthbert,” Sir Baldwin said, “that you overrate the chivalry of our master’s enemies.  Had we been thrown on the shores of France, Philip perhaps would hesitate to lay hands upon the king; but these petty German princelings have no idea of the observances of true chivalry.  They are coarse and brutal in their ways; and though in outward form following the usages of knighthood, they have never been penetrated with its spirit.  If the friends of Conrad of Montferat lay hands upon King Richard, I fear that no scruples will prevent them from using their advantage to the utmost.  Even their emperor I would not trust.  The course which you advise would no doubt be in accordance with the spirit of King Richard; but it would be madness for him to judge other people’s spirit by his own, and it would be rushing into the lion’s den to proclaim himself here.  I should recommend, if I might venture to do so, that his Majesty should assume a false name, and that we should travel in small parties so as to attract no attention, each making his way to Saxony as best he may.”

There was silence for a minute or two, and then the king with a sigh, said,—­