"Yes."
Fulke sighed.
"Ah, lucky youth! That precious sight upon which mine eyes may never dwell!"
"Surely, you go with the host, Messer Fulke?" asked Hugh kindly.
The priest shook his head.
"I go upon my Father's business," he said. "My path lies otherwhere. God keep you, fair sirs."
Before they could question him further, his quick, nervous stride had carried him into the midst of the crowd at the inn gateway, whose ranks closed around him in a tempest of adulation.
"In sooth, this Fulke is a great priest," said Hugh, as they rode slowly after him to join the column of Crusaders.
"And a sick man," added Matteo thoughtfully.
"Sick?"