But when the people saw that he had finished speaking, they drew deep
breath, and the air thundered with the great cry that came.
"Crosses! Give us crosses!"
And they pressed upon one another to get nearer. The King had risen,
and the Queen with him, and he came forward and knelt at Bernard's
feet, with bent head and folded hands. The great abbot took pieces of
scarlet cloth from a page who held them ready in a basket, and he
fastened them upon the King's left shoulder and then raised his right
hand in blessing. The people were silent again and looked on, and many
thought that the King, in his great mantle and high crown, was like a
bishop wearing a cope, for he had a churchman's face. He rose to his
feet and stepped back but he was scarcely risen when the Queen stood in
his place, radiant, the evening light in her hair.
"I also will go," she said in a clear, imperious voice. "Give me the
Cross!"
She knelt and placed her hands together, as in prayer, and there was a
fair light in her eyes as she looked up to Bernard's face. He hesitated
a moment, then took a cross and laid it upon her mantle, and she
smiled.
A great cry went up from all the knights, and then from the people,
strong and triumphant, echoing, falling, and rising again.
"God save the Queen!--the Queen that wears the Cross!"
And suddenly every man held up his sword by the sheath, and the great
cross-hilts made forests of crosses in the glowing air. But the Queen's
three hundred ladies pressed upon her.
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