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The English barons were no happier. The old Earl of Leicester had died in the early autumn and his son had come to Sicily to be invested by the King with his lands and titles. He had brought such a tale of Longchamp's doings that even Richard had seemed disturbed. Yet the King would do nothing beyond promise to correct all abuses upon his return. |
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"There will be nothing left to correct," Leicester muttered, once Alinor had got him started by bewailing Sir Andre's problems. "He is not King of the English," he added in a bitter whisper as the movement of the dance brought their heads together for a moment. "He does not care. Lord John loves the English. He has his faults, but" |
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"Perhaps there is more lack of understanding than lack of caring. You know, Lord Robert, when first one speaks of this matter and then another on that matter and each seems a small thing, the King does not see that all are dissatisfied. The English lords should go all together and complain. They should go now, while the Queen is here. It is even possible that she will lend her voice, and that would be of great benefit." |
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"That is a very wise thought, Lady Alinor. In most things the King is a most excellent person. How he can favor aa thing like Longchamp" His voice checked and a frightened look came into his eyes. |
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"I am sure the Bishop of Ely conceals his faults from the King," Alinor said blandly. "One puts one's best foot forward for one's lord." |
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Not only political problems were unsettling the Crusaders, however. Even those who did not fear King Philip or William Longchamp were deeply troubled. A young Poitevin bemoaned his nearly penniless state. They should have been on their way home, he protested. |
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"We started a year ago, a full year have we lingered here, eating up our substance. What am I to do? I desire greatly to do God's work, but soon my men and |
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