Richard was a brave warrior. He was afraid of nothing, and no savage beast was more fond of fighting. Never was he more happy than when in battle, knocking the heads of his foes with his huge battle ax and shouting the Norman war cry, "God help us! God help us!"

Many were his exploits in the Holy Land. His deeds of cruelty and of daring were such that even his name was a terror to the Saracens. But with all his rudeness and roughness and savage love of bloodshed, he was not wholly bad. Now and then he would act so kindly, or show such gentleness of heart, that men would forget his grievous faults.

Much fierce fighting did the crusaders find to do. The walls of Jerusalem were so well guarded by the Saracens that King Richard's men could find no way to get inside. They had to encamp on the barren hills outside and wait for help to come.

One morning Saladin, the noble leader of the Saracens, rode out of the city to see King Richard. The king went out from his camp to meet him; and each was so pleased with the other that soon they were fast friends. Later in the day Richard rode by the side of Saladin into the city. Through the narrow, winding streets they passed until they came at last to the Holy Sepulcher, where men said the body of the Saviour had been laid. There they shook hands and parted.

Soon after this Richard made a truce with the Saracens. He promised to withdraw his army from the Holy Land; and it was agreed that there should be no more fighting until after three years, three months, three days, and three hours had passed by.

With some of his bravest knights King Richard embarked on a small ship and sailed for home. At first the sea was calm and the wind wafted the king swiftly on his way. But after a few days a storm arose. The waves rolled mountain high. The ship was driven this way and that, until at last it was wrecked on an unknown shore.

Most of the men who were with the king were drowned. It was as much as he could do to reach the land alive. He was bruised by the rocks and choked by salt water and chilled by the rushing wind. For the rocks and the water and the wind have no more respect for a king than for any other man.

The country in which Richard found himself was wild and rough. Alone and quietly he made his way through woods and over mountains, not daring to tell who he was. For in those rude times no stranger was safe in a foreign land; and a ship-wrecked king would have been a fine prize. So, as a poor pilgrim returning from the Holy Land, he trudged onward, looking very ragged and forlorn and keeping out of the way of people as much as he could. Now and then he found food and lodging at the hut of some poor woodsman, but often he had no shelter under which to rest at night. He did not know how far it was to England, yet he kept going, toward the northwest, and every day he felt that he was a little nearer home.

He had traveled in this way for some time, when he came to a more thickly settled country. There was a road, with now and then a field or a house by it. The few people he met looked at him in a way that he did not like, but he kept straight on and said nothing.

One afternoon he came within sight of a strong castle with high towers and thick gray walls of rough stone. A little way from the castle there was a village of half a dozen houses, and at the entrance to the village there was a small inn.

"Whose castle is that?" he asked of a boy who was driving some cows along the road.

The boy stared at him, as though he thought him mad, and then answered, "Why, everybody knows it's the Duke of Austria's castle."

Now, Richard had good reason for not wishing to see the Duke of Austria. But he could not well turn back, and he followed the boy and the cows down to the village.

When they came to the inn they went through a wide gateway into a courtyard where some knights were exercising their horses. As luck would have it, one of the knights was the duke himself. He stared hard at Richard as he came trudging in behind the cows.

"Hello, you fellow!" cried the duke. "Who are you, and what do you want here?"

"I am a poor woodcutter from the forest," answered Richard, "and I have come to offer you my services. There is no man in Austria who can handle an ax better than I."

"Indeed!" said the duke, looking very keenly at his visitor. "I think I saw you wield an ax once. It was made of twenty pounds of English steel. I saw you wield it, not among the trees, but against the heads of Saracens. Am I not right?"

Richard knew that he was discovered. The Duke of Austria had seen him a hundred times in the Holy Land, and would have known his face anywhere.

"Yes, you are right," answered Richard. "As king of England I have often wielded such an ax, and I would fain wield it again when in the presence of the Duke of Austria."

"Do you remember Ascalon?" asked the duke.

"I remember it well," said Richard; "and I the wall that I helped to build there with my own hands. I remember, too, the kick that I gave the Duke of Austria because he was too lazy to work on that same wall."

"Very well," said the duke. "You shall now have that kick back with interest." Then turning to his men he cried, "Ho, guards! Seize this fellow. Put him in chains, and shut him up where the sunlight will never trouble him."

Richard, with his back to the wall, made a strong fight for freedom. But what could he, with his bare hands, do against so many armed men? He was soon overpowered, and dragged away to the duke's castle, where he was thrown into a dismal dungeon at the bottom of the tower.