"Is it not right and just that a son should seek news of a father who hath been lost to him?" she said softly. "A brave quest, Lord Hugh. May the Immaculate One walk beside you."
For an instant the long lashes lifted and her eyes beamed into his. Then they were decorously veiled. Hugh's heart thumped faster, and he pressed one hand against his hauberk where a hunting-glove nestled beneath the mail.
"You are very kind, lady," he muttered.
But the Cæsar was not so readily satisfied. A weak man, he was unconscionably stubborn.
"It is because I admire the courage and chivalry of the young English lord that I would convince him of the uselessness of his search," he persisted. "Sir James—the Panagia rest his soul!—is dead these many years. Turn your arms to the task of the Crusade, Lord Hugh. There you shall win honours to match your merit."
Hugh listened gravely. The man was his senior in age and of exalted rank.
"I will consider your counsel, lord," he answered, and turned away.
Despite Hugh's reserve, Comnenus would have said more. But Villehardouin picked up his reins.
"Your pardon, lords," he apologised, "but it is a long ride yet to Troyes. We must be on our way. An you do me the honour, I would fain have your company. I must hear more of this quest of yours, Lord Hugh."
He raised in his stirrups and flung a bellow of command behind him. The forest of lances stirred into motion and flowed after them.