his illness, and that the interval of truce was employed, not in
recruiting their numbers, reanimating their courage, fostering
their spirit of conquest, and preparing for a speedy and
determined advance upon the Holy City, which was the object of
their expedition, but in securing the camp occupied by their
diminished followers with trenches, palisades, and other
fortifications, as if preparing rather to repel an attack from a
powerful enemy so soon as hostilities should recommence, than to
assume the proud character of conquerors and assailants.

The English king chafed under these reports, like the imprisoned
lion viewing his prey from the iron barriers of his cage.
Naturally rash and impetuous, the irritability of his temper
preyed on itself. He was dreaded by his attendants and even the
medical assistants feared to assume the necessary authority which
a physician, to do justice to his patient, must needs exercise
over him. One faithful baron, who, perhaps, from the congenial
nature of his disposition, was devoutly attached to the King's
person, dared alone to come between the dragon and his wrath, and
quietly, but firmly, maintained a control which no other dared
assume over the dangerous invalid, and which Thomas de Multon
only exercised because he esteemed his sovereign's life and
honour more than he did the degree of favour which he might lose,
or even the risk which he might incur, in nursing a patient so
intractable, and whose displeasure was so perilous.

Sir Thomas was the Lord of Gilsland, in Cumberland, and in an age
when surnames and titles were not distinctly attached, as now, to
the individuals who bore them, he was called by the Normans the
Lord de Vaux; and in English by the Saxons, who clung to their