“There will be glory enough,” replied the Archbishop, “in having extorted from Saladin, by force of arms, and by the respect inspired by your fame, such conditions as at once restore the Holy Sepulchre, open the Holy Land to pilgrims, secure their safety by strong fortresses, and, stronger than all, assure the safety of the Holy City, by conferring on Richard the title of King Guardian of Jerusalem.”
“How!” said Richard, his eyes sparkling with unusual light. “I—I—I the King Guardian of the Holy City! Victory itself, but that it is victory, could not gain more—scarce so much, when won with unwilling and disunited forces. But Saladin still proposes to retain his interest in the Holy Land?”
“As a joint sovereign, the sworn ally,” replied the prelate, “of the mighty Richard—his relative, if it may be permitted, by marriage.”
“By marriage!” said Richard, surprised, yet less so than the prelate had expected. “Ha!—ay—Edith Plantagenet. Did I dream this? or did some one tell me? My head is still weak from this fever, and has been agitated. Was it the Scot, or the Hakim, or yonder holy hermit, that hinted such a wild bargain?”
“The hermit of Engaddi, most likely,” said the Archbishop, “for he hath toiled much in this matter; and since the discontent of the princes has became apparent, and a separation of their forces unavoidable, he hath had many consultations, both with Christian and pagan, for arranging such a pacification as may give to Christendom, at least in part, the objects of this holy warfare.”
“My kinswoman to an infidel—ha!” exclaimed Richard, as his eyes began to sparkle.
The prelate hastened to avert his wrath.
“The Pope's consent must doubtless be first attained, and the holy hermit, who is well known at Rome, will treat with the holy Father.”
“How?—without our consent first given?” said the King.
“Surely no,” said the Bishop, in a quieting and insinuating tone of voice—“only with and under your especial sanction.”