The priest gnashed his teeth.
"Ay, 'tis true," he cried, "and even this jongleur, this panderer to the sinfulness of man, this singer of lewd songs and love rhymes—even he taunteth us with our wickedness, for that we have forgotten Our Lord who died for us! Woe, woe unto all ye who turn not into the narrow path! Woe, I say, unto ye, all ye who do not abandon the work of the world for the work of God! The sinful have taunted us, and we may not answer! So far have we strayed from the way our feet were set upon!"
He tossed his arms wildly overhead and rode on alone, heedless of the rest of the company.
"A pleasant fellow," quoth Matteo. "He liked not the manner of my face, I take it."
The knight laughed.
"'Tis Messer Fulke of Neuilly. He is the preacher of the Crusade by the Holy Apostle's own writ. He is like unto the Sainted Peter the Hermit, who preached the First Crusade to our fathers. A most pious man, Messers, but certes, one not over-comfortable to live with. I am glad he hath passed on before. I had wished myself a Paynim an I had been afflicted much longer with his company."
He hesitated and regarded them enquiringly, his gaze sweeping from Hugh and Matteo to the strange lord and his daughter, who had sat quietly throughout the conversation.
"I, lords," he said courteously, bowing to the lady, "am the Lord Geoffrey de Villehardouin, Marshal of Champagne, and I ride with the knights and men-at-arms of my master, the Count of Champagne, to join the Crusade which sails from Venice after Easter. Prithee, can I be of service to you?"
"Lord Marshal," replied the strange lord pompously, "I am one unknown to you, although perchance you have heard of my ill fate. I am the Cæsar Michael Comnenus, an exile from Constantinople, and this is my daughter the Lady Helena. We are riding from Germany into Italy to seek news of our affairs. Of these brave squires I know not even their names, but I can vouch for their gallantry. It had gone hard with us had they not ridden to our rescue."
"Certes, I have heard of the troubles of the Cæsar Michael Comnenus," answered the Marshal of Champagne. "Yours is a sad story, lord, and one all too common in these days in Byzantium, if the tales we hear are true. I pray you, sir, do you and your daughter ride with us south into Italy. So you shall be guarded against other mishaps. And now, young sirs, may I have the pleasure of knowing you?"