“Are Saracens wicked people?”
“Yes, of course—as bad as Jews. They are a sort of Jews, I believe; at any rate, they worship idols, and weave wicked spells.” (Note 3.)
“Is all the world full of wicked people?”
“Pretty nigh, child!” said her mother, with a sigh. “The saints know that well enough.”
“I wonder if the saints do know,” answered Derette meditatively, rocking the baby in her arms. “I should have thought they’d come and mend things, if they did. Why don’t they, Mother?”
“Bless you, child! The saints know their own business best. Come here and watch this pan whilst I make the sauce.”
The supper was ready, and was just about to be dished up, when Haimet entered, accompanied by the leader of the foreigners, to the evident delight of the guests.
“Only just in time,” murmured Isel. “However, it is as well you’ve brought somebody to speak to. Where’s all the rest of them folks?”
“Got them all housed at last,” said Haimet, flinging his hat into a corner. “Most in the town granary, but several down this street. Old Turguia took two women, and Franna a man and wife: and what think you?—if old Benefei did not come forth and offer to take in some.”
“Did they go with him?”