"I put my hands between the hands of my Lady, Queen Maud of England,
and I am her man," said Gilbert Warde.
But Eleanor's touch was like ice, and she trembled a little.
Then she took the sword of Aquitaine and held it up in her right hand,
though it was heavy, and she spoke holy words.
"Gilbert Warde, be a true knight in life and death! 'Whatsoever things
are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever
things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any
praise, think on these things'--and do them, and for them live and
die."
When she had spoken, she laid the sword flat upon his left shoulder,
and let it linger a moment, and then lifted it and touched him twice
again, and sheathed the long blade.
"Sir Gilbert, rise!"
He stood before her, and he knew what remained to be done, according to
the rite, and it was not fire that ran through him, but a chill of
fear. The Queen's face was marble pale and as beautiful as death. One
step toward him she made with outstretched arms, her right above his
left, her left under his right as he met her. Then she coldly kissed
the man she loved on the cheek, once only, in the royal fashion, and he
kissed her.
She drew back, and their eyes met. Remembering many things, he thought
that he should see in her face the evil shadow of his mother, as he had
seen it before; but he saw a face he did not know, for it was that of a
suffering woman, coldly brave to the best of her strength.
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