HEAVY-hearted and pale-cheeked with his rigidly observed fast, Richard armed himself in early morning, and set forth to the chapel tent, where the previous solemnities had to be observed. He had made up his mind to make an earnest appeal to the Earl of Gloucester, for the sake of the old friendship with his father, to become his godfather in the combat, as one whose character stood too high to be injured by connection with him. Even this plan was frustrated, for Hamlyn de Valence entered, led by Earl Gilbert as his sponsor. Should he turn to his one other friend, the Prince himself? Nay, the Prince was umpire and judge. Never stood warrior so lonely. Little John of Dunster crept up to his side; and but for fear of injuring the child, he would almost have asked him to be his sponsor. At that moment, however, the tramp of horses’ feet was heard, and Sir Reginald de Ferrières, with his squires, galloped up to the tent. The young Hospitalier held out his hand cordially. “In time, I hope,” said he; “I have ridden ever since Lauds at Castel San Giovanni, hoping to be with you, so as to stand by you in this matter.” “It was kindly done of you,” said Richard, tears of gratitude swelling in his eyes, as he wrung Sir Raynald’s hand. “I have not even a godfather for the fight! How could you know of my need?” “Some of our brethren came over from the camp, for our Ash Wednesday procession, and spoke of the stress you were in—that your Montfort lineage was out, and that you were thought to have writ a letter—but stay, there’s no time for words; methinks here’s the Prince and all his train.” Sir Raynald went through the solemnity of presenting Richard de Montfort as about to fight in defence of his own innocence. The Prince coldly accepted the presentation. Richard knew that Sir Raynald was deemed anything but a satisfactory sponsor; but the young knight’s hearty sympathy, a sort of radiance caught from good old Sir Robert, was too comforting not to be reposed on. Each champion then confessed. Raynald heard Richard’s shrift, and nearly wept over it—it was the first the young priestly knight had received, and he could scarcely clear his voice to speak the words of absolution. Even as they left the confessional, he grasped Richard’s hand and said, “Cast in thy lot with us! St. John will find thee father and home and brethren!”