FOR more than a year the English people heard no tidings of their king. They knew that Richard had started home from the Holy Land. They had heard, too, of his shipwreck, and it was rumored that he was held as a prisoner in some distant land. But nobody knew where that land was.
Now Richard in his happier days at home had trained up a young rhymer, or minstrel, whose name was Blondel de Nesle. Before going to the Holy Land, he had spent many a pleasant hour in Blondel’s company, listening to his beautiful songs. For the young minstrel had a rare, rich voice, full of the most charming melody; and no other singer in England or France could excel him. Sometimes Richard himself had composed little songs which he and Blondel sang together; and a strong love, like that of two brothers, had sprung up between the minstrel and the king.
Very sad was Blondel when no news could be heard of Richard. He wandered h