At length arrived a day in which, from a fortress window above his head,
came an echo of the strain he had just sung. He listened in ecstasy.
Those were Norman words; that was a well-known voice; it could be but
the captive king.

"O Richard! O my king!" sang the minstrel again, in a song of his own
devising.

From above came again the sound of familiar song. Filled with joy, the
faithful minstrel sought England's shores, told the nobles where the
king could be found, and made strenuous exertions to obtain his ransom,
efforts which were at length crowned with success.

Through the alluring avenues of romance the voice of Blondel still comes
to us, singing his signal lay of "O Richard! O my king!" but history has
made no record of the pretty tale, and back to history we must turn.

The imprisoned king was placed on trial before the German Diet at Worms,
charged with--no one knows what. Whatever the charge, the sentence was
that he should pay a ransom of one hundred thousand pounds of silver,
and acknowledge himself a vassal of the emperor. The latter, a mere
formality, was gone through with as much pomp and ceremony as though it
was likely to have any binding force upon English kings. The former, the
raising of the money, was more difficult. Two years passed, and still it
was not all paid. The royal prisoner, weary of his long captivity,
complained bitterly of the neglect of his people and friends, singing
his woes in a song composed in the polished dialect of Provence, the
land of the troubadours.