He pointed up the cross-road. The westering sun shone full upon a great foison of spears, pennoned and unpennoned, that blocked it like a moving hedge.
"Who are they?" asked Hugh in bewilderment.
Matteo shrugged his shoulders.
"I know not. Spears of destiny, mayhap. In sooth, a mighty company."
CHAPTER IX
THE COMRADES TAKE THE CROSS
"Kyrie Eleison!" wailed the man Matteo had rescued. "We are delivered from one set of thieves to fall into the clutches of another band more numerous."
Hugh eyed him with some amusement, noting, too, the flush that stained the dusky cheeks of the girl in the green habit. He was a well-made man, plump, with the air of a personage used to good service and soft beds. His coat of rich eastern cloth was trimmed with beaver. His face was handsome, even scholarly, but marred by a certain petulant arrogance.
"Your fears are reasonless, father," said the girl sharply. "And rather than bemoan our fate, we should thank these gallant knights for their aid. But for them we should be on our way to the lair of the outlaws."
"Indeed, lady, you make much of what is of no moment," remonstrated Hugh. "And we are not knights, but plain squires."