Among these last, to the terrible grief of Cuthbert, was his friend and patron, the Earl of Evesham.

The king, on taking off his armour, hurried to his tent.
"The glory of this day is marred indeed," he said to the wounded knight, "if I am to lose you, Sir Walter." "I fear that it must even be so, my lord," the dying earl said.

"I am glad that I have seen this day, for never did I think to witness such feats as those which your Majesty has performed; and though the crusade has failed, and the Holy City remains in the hands of the infidel, yet assuredly no shadow of disgrace has fallen upon the English arms, and, indeed, great glory has accrued to us.

Whatever may be said of the Great Crusade, it will, at least, be allowed by all men, and for all time, that had the princes and soldiers of other nations done as your Majesty and your followers have done, the holy city would have fallen into our hands within a month of our putting foot upon the soil.

Your Majesty, I have a boon to ask." "You have but to name it, Sir Walter, and it is yours." "Sir Cuthbert, here," he said, pointing to the young knight, who was sorrowfully kneeling by his bedside, "is as a son to me.