The King was haughty in his bearing towards both Constable and Chancellor, whom he knew to be friends of De Montfort. He chided them somewhat roundly in face of all his company for the recent riot, and even threw out a hint of displacing them from office if this sort of thing went on. He was more gracious in his bearing towards the municipal authorities, but was still very much the triumphant monarch, visiting a turbulent city which had once caused him trouble, but where he meant for the future to be very much the master. His demeanour did not inspire either respect or confidence in the hearts of those who saw him, and only when he approached the precincts of St. Frideswyde's shrine did he begin to comport himself differently. When, however, he ceased to have men of the world to deal with, and found himself confronted by those ecclesiastics who had always been the supporters of the royal and papal power, he became another creature altogether. He dismounted from his horse, begged the blessing of the Prior, made costly gifts to the Priory, and finally presented himself at the shrine itself, prostrating himself with every token of outward reverence, and placing there his offerings, which were on a lavish and princely scale. Only a few of his own followers accompanied him into the church, and the procession which had ridden forth to meet him did not attempt to enter so much as the precincts. It was plain to all that the King had come in no conciliatory mood, but that, puffed up by the award of France, he now intended to rule the realm with a rod of iron, and to listen to neither remonstrance nor condition. "Pray Heaven the saint may send him a vision that shall change his heart," spoke some one from the crowd, "else the sword will be unsheathed ere many weeks have passed!" Alys's eyes sought the face of Leofric, and she asked,-- "Does the saint in truth ever send warnings and visions to those who worship at her shrine?" Leofric looked doubtful; he was not very clear as to the capacities of the saints in this respect. "In truth, fair lady, I know not. It seems to me that visions and wonders are seldom vouchsafed to those who are puffed up with pride and self-esteem. It is the poor and humble in spirit to whom the Lord reveals His mind--so at least Father Angelus teaches. Yet they say that miracles are worked at the shrine, and I heard that the son of one of the burgesses of the city was raised from the dead not so very long since by being brought hither and laid before the shrine, whilst the monks offered prayers for him. He had died beneath the knife of the surgeons, they say, who had worked upon him some hoped-for cure, which had caused instead his death; but he was restored, they say, by the virgin saint. Would that she could restore to his Majesty that willingness of spirit towards our noble Earl which in times past he hath been known to show!"