‘No,’ said Jehane, ready for him; ’no, Richard, unless the people shall choose their own king.’

‘God chooses the king,’ says Richard, ‘or so we choose to believe.’

‘Then God must appoint the wife,’ Jehane said, and tried to get free.  But this could not be allowed, as she knew.

She was gentle with him, reasoning.  ’The King your father is an old man, Richard.  Old men love their way.’

‘God knows, he is old, and passionate, and indifferent wicked,’ said Richard, and kissed Jehane.  ’Look, my girl, there were four of us:  Henry, and me, and Geoffrey, and John, whom he sought to drive in team by a sop to-day and a stick to-morrow.  A good way, done by a judging hand.  What then?  I will tell you how the team served the teamster.  Henry gave sop for sop, and it was found well.  Might he not give stick for stick?  He thought so:  God rest him, he is dead of that.  There was much simplicity in Henry.  I got no sop at all.  Why should I have stick then?  I saw no reason; but I took what came.  If I cried out, it is a more harmless vent than many.  Let me alone.  Geoffrey, I think, was a villain.  God help him if He can:  he is dead too.  He took sop and gave stick:  ungentle in Geoffrey, but he paid for it.  He was a cross-bred dog with much of the devil in him; he bit himself and died barking.  Last, there is John.  I desire to speak reasonably of John; but he is too snug, he gets all sop.  This is not fair.  He should have some stick, that we may judge what mettle he has.  There, my Jehane, you have the four of us, a fretful team; whereof one has rushed his hills and broken his heart; and one, kicking his yoke-fellows, squealing, playing the jade, has broken his back; and one, poor Richard, does collar-work and gets whip; and one, young Master John, eases his neck and is cajoled with, “So then, so then, boy!” Then comes pretty Jehane to the ear of the collar-horse, whispering, “Good Richard, get thee to stall, but not here.  Stable thee snug with the King of France his sister.”  ‘Hey!’ laughed Richard, ‘what a word for a chosen bride!’ He pinched her cheek and looked gaily at her, triumphant in his own eloquence.  He was most dangerous when that devil was awake, so she dared not look at him back.  Eagerly and low she replied.

’Yes, Richard, yes, yes, my king!  The king must have the king’s sister, and Jehane go back to the byre.  Eagles do not mate with buzzards.’  Hereupon he snatched her up altogether and hid her face in his breast.

‘Never, never, never!’ he swore to the rafters.  ’As God lives and reigns, so live thou and so reign, queen of me, my Picardy rose.’

She tried no more that night, fearing that his love so keen-edged might make his will ride rough.  The watch-fires at Louviers trembled and streamed up in the north.  There was no need for candles in the Dark Tower.