Nor yet was he forgotten by his old lovers, the common people. They waited in crowds to see him walk upon the terrace. The sailors shouted for him as the ships came up the river. As the years passed, and his feats became a legend, ladies and cavaliers came praying from the lieutenant of the Tower a word with the lion-heart. Still he wore his velvets and silks and damasks; still he blazed with jewels: no dusty prisoner, but a splendid knight, pacing the terrace while summers and winters went. Even the Queen came thither with her young son begging his “strawberry water” to cure her of an ailment; and if the mother returned not it was not so with the son. The young Prince Henry came again and again, and being a youth of high and generous spirit, loved my lord in time near as well as we did, who had seen his glories. “None save my father,” he quoth bitterly, “would have kept such a bird in a cage.” His relation with my lord came in time to be as that of master and pupil, for he would pace with him for hours while my lord discoursed on the arts of peace and war and the duties of a prince to his subjects. So great grew the tenderness between them that I doubt not if the young Prince had lived my lord would have stood at his right hand. But that was not to be: he died untimely, and the last prayer on his lips was for the freeing of his friend. The dead Prince’s prayer was forgotten; but presently when the King wanted money he remembered the treasures of Guiana and those gifts my lord had brought to Queen Elizabeth. ’Twas as mean a bargain as ever was made. My lord was to have his liberty. He was to find the money for the ships and the men; but whatever treasure the gold mines in the Orinoco yielded was to fall to the King. On these conditions, and that he was not to meddle with the Spaniards, my lord set out. I went with him; and young Walter also sailed. He who had been a noble and gallant youth was now become a noble and gallant man, and my lord had great hopes of him; but, alas, Death mows down the fairest and the most promising. From the first the thing was ill-fated. We were not so far sailed when fever broke out and ravaged the ships. Now there is nothing like a pestilence for breaking the heart and reducing the spirit in men; and ere ever we reached Guiana shores there was grumbling a-shipboard and mutiny in the air. And when we were come there it was to find the Spaniards, with forces of ships and men guarding the mouth of the river; for all our secrets had been betrayed to them. Nor would it matter what force the Spaniards had, nor would any murmur have arisen if but the Captain had been at our head. But he, alas, was laid low by the sickness; and his men without him as a shepherdless flock that is driven hither and thither and blown upon by winds of confusion. For when they found the Spanish defences they cried out that they had been betrayed, and would go no further.