And before they could protest, he took strips from the citizen's cloak and pinned crosses to their surcoats.
"There is a miracle for you," he shouted to the crowd, and a din of rejoicing arose from the packed ranks.
The people pressed closer, not only kissing Fulke's clothing, but striving to snatch bits of the comrades' surcoats, in which they fancied some sure virtue to have been embodied. Hugh and Matteo were forced to fight their way out of the throng. It was impossible for them to protest against the priest's act. Had they done so they would have been torn to pieces. As it was, they did not feel safe until they were swallowed in the shadows of a side-street.
"Do you believe in God?" asked Hugh, as he fingered the coarse cloth of the cross that sprawled across his breast.
"Sometimes," answered Matteo quietly. "And sometimes I believe in the Fate of which the Saracens teach."
"Which brought this about?"
"God knows," said the jongleur.
And involuntarily he crossed himself.