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BLOSS C.A. Heroines of the Crusades


Sir John Froissart's Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the Ajoining Countries from the latter part of the reign of Edward II to the coronation of Henry IV in 12 volumes 

Chronicles of Enguerrand De Monstrelet (Sir John Froissart's Chronicles continuation) in 13 volumes 

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Heroines of the Crusades
page 209

advance of him, and thought he discerned, in the van, the, crest of Richard Cœur de Lion. Putting spurs lo Iiis, horse, he joined tiie rear of the cavalcade, which proved to, be the funeral procession of Henry IL, led by his erring son to the abbey of Fontevrand. The mournful tones of the bell mingled with the clanging tread of the mail-clad nobles, as solemn and slow they followed the prince up the long aisle of the church. The air was heavy with the, breath of burning incense, and the strong and ruddy glare of the funeral torches, revealed with fearful distinctness, the deep furrows made by age, and care, and grief in the noble features of the deceased monarch. The walls draped-with the sable habiliments of woe, returned the muffled; tones of* the organ, while drooping banners, that canopied, the bier, shook as with a boding shudder, at the .approach of the warrior-train. One solitary mourner knelt beside, the altar, a fair-haired youth, whose features of classic, purity, seemed to have borrowed their aspect of repose from, the dread presence before him. It was Geoffrey, the younger son of Rosamond. The solemn chanting of the mass was hushed, and the startled priests suppressed their very breath in awe, as heavy sobs burst from the great heart of Cœur de Lion, and shook the steel corselet that was belted above his breast. Geoffrey silently rose, #nd moving to the head of the bier, left the place of honor to his repentant brother. " My father !" exclaimed Richard, bending over the dead, and lifting the palsied hand, "My father ! oh canst thou not forgive?" He stopped in speech-less horror, for Mood oozed from the clammy lips that till now had always responded to the call of affection. The sensitive heart of Sancho, wrung with a kindred agony, could no longer brook the terrible spectacle. He left the abbey, and was followed by one and another of the crowd till the self-accusing parricide was left alone with the body of his sire. "When the Prince of Navarre returned to Pampeluna, he forbore to pain his sister's heart by a recital of the melan- 220 HEROINES OF THE CRUSADES.

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