also included, above all else, what the men of the Middle Ages called “loyalty.” Primarily, to them, loyalty meant the faithful discharge of the obligations legally involved in the relation between vassal and lord; obligations, indeed, often disregarded and violated in practice, but theoretically acknowledged as sacred no less in the days of John Lackland and Philip Augustus than in the days when they inspired one of the noblest outbursts of feeling in the noblest epic of ancient France.[348] This principle of “loyalty” in the medieval sense was the rule by which the Marshal walked, with a rare steadfastness and consistency, throughout his life. The very passages in his career which seem at first glance most difficult to reconcile with modern ideas on the subject are in reality illustrations of the simple and literal way in which he followed his rule, and were thoroughly understood as such by the sovereigns against whom they brought him temporarily into opposition.[349] He never concerned himself with abstract politics; in any given circumstances, his sole concern was to do his own duty to his own lord, whoever that lord might be. He knew neither doubt nor fear. He was, indeed, constitutionally fearless; personal danger of any kind was a thing of which he seems to have remained through life almost as unconscious as when in early childhood, a hostage in the power of Stephen and condemned to be hurled like a stone from a mangonel into the castle which his father was defending for the Empress Maud, he had disarmed the King’s wrath by running up to the deadly engine and begging for a “swing” in it. But his courage never degenerated into rashness; he was never eager to fight (except in a tournament) merely for fighting’s sake, nor willing to countenance violent measures unless they were imperatively called for by necessity or honour. His temper was cool and practical. He was no pioneer of reform or of revolution; he accepted without question the ordinary standards of public opinion in his day.[350] His ideal was strictly the ideal of his own time; an ideal, therefore, which all his contemporaries could understand and appreciate, and which they could see to be fulfilled in his person more completely than in that of any other man then living, at any rate in England. As he was true and just in the fulfilment of his duty as a vassal, so he was true and just in all his dealing. When he was but a landless knight, living by the ransoms of the prisoners and the sale of the horses captured by him in tournaments, men already knew that his word was his bond. His lord the “young King,” Henry II’s son, habitually “spent so much in every place where he went, that when the hour of departure came, he knew not how to get away” from his creditors. “Counts, barons, vavassours” vainly offered to stand surety for the payment of his debts; the shrewd tradesmen would accept no such security; but when the Marshal pledged his word that the accounts