“How so!” exclaimed Richard. “If peril threaten my Lord, I must be with him at once.”
“Much hast thou gained by hanging on upon him,” said Simon scornfully, glancing at Richard’s heels; “not so much as a pair of gilt spurs! Creeping after him like a hound, thou hast not even the bones!”
“I have all I seek,” said Richard. “I have his brotherly kindness. I have the opportunity of redeeming my name. Nay, I should even regret any honour that took me from the services I now perform. Simon, didst thou but know his love for our father!”
“Silence, base caitiff!” thundered Simon; “I know his deeds, and that is enough for me! Look here, mean-spirited as thou wert to be taken with his hypocrisy, I have pity on thee yet. I would spare thee what awaits thee in the camp!”
“For heaven’s sake, Simon, dost know of any attack of the Emir? The Princess must at once be conveyed into the town! As thou art a man, a Christian, speak plainly!”
“Foolish lad, the infidels are quiet enough! No peril threatens the camp! Only if thou wilt run thy head into it, thou art like to find it too hot to hold thee!”
“I am afraid of no accusations,” said Richard; “my Lord knows and trusts me.”
Simon laughed a loud ringing scornful laugh.
“Wilful will to water,” he said. “Well, thou besotted lad, if it be not too late when thou getst into the hands of Crookbacked Edmund and Red Gilbert, remember the way to Galilee, that is all!”
“I tell thee, Simon,” said Richard, turning round and fully facing him; “I would rather perish an innocent man by the hands of the Provost Marshal, than darken my soul with thy counsels of blood. O Simon! What thy purpose may be I know not; but canst thou deem it faithfulness to our father, saint as he was, to live this dark wild life, so utterly abhorrent to him?”