Then the officer bade him turn and look, and he did so, with the tears
of that dreadful laughter still upon his cheeks.

The two men were standing there; one had a great hangman's whip of
leather in his hand, and the other a rope.

"Now, sir;" said the officer behind him, "here is enough authority for
you and me. Shall I bid them begin, or will you tell us what it is that
you have done to the King?"

Now, Master Richard had nothing to tell, as you know; he could not have
saved himself in any case from the torment, but our Lord allowed him to
have this trial, to see how he would bear himself. He might have cried
out for mercy, or told a false tale as men so often have done, but he
did neither of these things. The laughter again rose in his throat, but
he drove it down, and after looking upon the men's faces and the arms of
the man that held the whip, he turned once more to the officer.

"I have scourged myself too often," he said, "to fear such pain; and our
Saviour bore stripes for me."

Then (for the men had released him that he might turn round) he undid
the button at his throat, and threw back the kirtle, knotting the
sleeves about his waist, and so stood, naked to his middle, awaiting the
punishment.

He told me afterwards that never had he felt such lightness and freedom
as he felt at this time. His body yearned for the pain, as it yearned
for the sting and thrill of cold water on a cold day. When he was
telling me, I understood better how it was that the holy martyrs were so