Just at this time, Archbishop William of Tyre came to preach a new Crusade, and the description of the miseries of the Christians in Palestine so affected the two kings and Richard, that they took the Cross, and agreed to lay aside their disputes, to unite in the rescue of Jerusalem. However, the concord did not last long; Richard quarrelled with the Count of Toulouse, and a petty war took place, which the kings agreed to conclude by a conference, as usual, under the Elm of Gisors. This noble tree had so large a trunk, that the arms of four men could not together encircle it; the branches had, partly by Nature, partly by art, been made to bend downward, so as to form a sort of bower, and there were seats on the smooth extent of grass which they shaded. King Henry first arrived at this pleasant spot, and his train stretched themselves on the lawn, rejoicing in being thus sheltered from the burning heat of the summer sun; and when the French came up, laughed at them, left beyond the shade, to be broiled in the sunbeams. This gave offence, a sharp skirmish took place, the English drew off to Vernon, and Philippe, mindful of the indignation he had felt in his boyhood under that tree, swore that no more parleys should be held under it, and his knights hewed it down with their battle-axes. The war continued, and Richard fought gallantly on his father’s side; but as winter drew on, it was resolved that a meeting should be held at Bonmoulins to re-establish peace. Richard thought this a fit opportunity, in the presence of Alice’s brother, for endeavoring to have his rights confirmed, and to clear up the miserable question of his betrothal. In the midst of the meeting he called on his father to promise him, in the presence of the King of France, that he would no longer delay his marriage, and declaration as his heir. Henry prevaricated, and talked of bestowing Alice on John. “This,” cried Richard, “forces me to believe what I would fain have thought impossible! Comrades, you shall see a sight you did not expect.”