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Updated: September 13, 2025
So he waited. The end was not very far off. Count Eustace of Saint-Pol was the moving spirit in these parts, grown to be an astute, unscrupulous man of near thirty years. His spies kept him well informed of Richard's intolerable state; he knew of the embassies to Rome, of the fierce murdering moods, of the black moods, of the cheerless revelry and fruitless energy of this great stricken Angevin.
The Marquess knew that Richard would sooner help the devil than him to Jerusalem; not only on this account, but on every conceivable account did he hate Richard. If he could embroil the two leaders of the Crusade, there was his affair: Philip would need him. In Paris also was Saint-Pol, fizzling with mischief, and behind him, where-ever he went, stalked Gilles de Gurdun, murder in his heart.
He clacked his tongue on his palate, and bolted this pill as best he could. Bad was best. He saw himself made newly so great a fool that he dared not think of it. If he had known at that time of Richard's dealing with Jehane Saint-Pol, you may be sure he would have squirted some venom. But he knew nothing at all about it; and as to the other affair, even he dared not speak.
The reader can form an idea of the numberless embarrassments which this double relationship had caused him, and of all the temporal reefs among which his spiritual bark had been forced to tack, in order not to suffer shipwreck on either Louis or Charles, that Scylla and that Charybdis which had devoured the Duc de Nemours and the Constable de Saint-Pol.
I have been breaking the back of the Count of Saint-Pol. At this the Marquess, suffused with dark blood till he was colour of lead, broke out, pointing his finger as well as his words. As the bilge-water jets from a ketch when the hold is surcharged, so did the Marquess jet his expletives. 'Ha, sire! Ha, King of France!
Of Eustace Saint-Pol it had made a man. After his homage done, this youth still kneeling, his hands still between Philip's hands, looked fixedly into his sovereign's face, and 'A boon, fair sire! he said. 'A boon to your new man! 'What now, Saint-Pol? asked King Philip. 'Sire, he said, 'my sister's marriage is in you.
Behind these palaces, extended in all directions, now broken, fenced in, battlemented like a citadel, now veiled by great trees like a Carthusian convent, the immense and multiform enclosure of that miraculous Hotel de Saint-Pol, where the King of France possessed the means of lodging superbly two and twenty princes of the rank of the dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy, with their domestics and their suites, without counting the great lords, and the emperor when he came to view Paris, and the lions, who had their separate Hotel at the royal Hotel.
'I proposed it myself, because I consider that a lady has the right to dispose of her own person. She loved me once. 'I believe that she is yours at this hour, sire. 'That is what I propose to find out, said Richard. 'Enough. What news have they in Paris? Saint-Pol could not help himself; he was bursting with a budget he had received from the south.
'Per la Madonna! said the Marquess. 'What will you do, Gilles? Saint-Pol asked the Norman. 'Will you leave it to the Marquess of Montferrat? 'I will not, said Gilles. 'I follow King Richard from point to point. I hire nobody. The Marquess's hands went up, desperate of such folly. 'You only with me, my Eustace! he said. Saint-Pol looked up. 'I differ from either.
Let him lead an assault upon the walls, and I will split his headpiece if I may; but I will never again try him unarmed. 'Pouf! said Saint-Pol; but he was of the same mind. Then came a day when Des Barres was out upon the neighbouring hills with a company of knights, scouting.
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