Enthroned, she had appraised from a distance the righteous wars she set
afoot; trudging thus among the debris of these wars, she found they had
unsuspected aspects. Bastling the royal army had recently sacked.
There remained of this village the skeletons of two houses, and for the
rest a jumble of bricks, rafters half-burned, many calcined fragments of
humanity, and ashes. At Bastling, Messire Heleigh turned to the Queen
toiling behind.
"Oh, madame!" he said, in a dry whisper, "this was the home of so many
men!"
"I burned it," Dame Alianora replied. "That man we passed just now I
killed. Those other men and women--my folly slew them all. And little
children, my Osmund! The hair like flax, blood-dabbled!"
"Oh, madame!" he wailed, in the extremity of his pity.
For she stood with eyes shut, all gray. The Queen demanded: "Why have
they not slain me? Was there no man in England to strangle the proud
wanton? Are you all cowards here?"
He said: "I detect only one coward in the affair. Your men and
Leicester's men also ride about the world, and draw sword and slay and
die for the right as they see it.
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