The comrades rode in silence until they had reached the highroad. Then Matteo struck up a lilting song, and Hugh's melancholy took flight at the visions conjured up before his eyes anew.
Passing fair was Mellisante,
Passing fair and right content.
Never wooed a gentler knight
Than Sir Gui de Bras.
In the darkened forest-glade
Oft she waited unafraid,
Starry-eyed and maiden-white—
For Sir Gui de Bras.
Matteo broke off with a little laugh.
"We might better be singing the Benedicite than such love verses," he jibed. "What say you, Hugh, shall we go upon our way pilgrim-solemn or shall we take joy in the wine of life and let all the world know of it?"
"No pilgrim-gait for me," answered Hugh lightly. "I am all for music and laughter. How now, Ralph, what say you?"
Ralph heaved a deep sigh.
"There is that in the song Messer Matteo was singing that makes my heart ache all the more, Messer Hugh," he said. "An it please you, let us sing and talk of arms and battle, for I have many sad thoughts I would forget."
"Well spoken, Ralph," applauded Matteo. "That is the proper spirit for such a venture as ours. Of arms and battles, of sieges and splendid deeds, then, shall we debate and sing. Hark ye to this."
And leaning back in his saddle, he raised his voice in the full-throated burden of a Burgundian tilting song, savage and challenging, punctuated with the crashing of chargers, the blasts of the heralds' trumpets and the clash of armour. This brought Ralph out of the dumps, and for the rest of that day they rode carefree, finding entertainment in the sights of the roadside and in discussion of future plans. At night they lay at the castle of a knight who was a distant cousin of Hugh's.