“What, the stout Englisher! The brave knight who now commands the soldiers of our late Lord, in Palestine? He that is noted for the strength of his arms, and the daring of his spirit? Why all Christendom rings with his feats.”
“Well, my bird of a page, I have lately heard by a wandering palmer, that a truce has been made, between that son of Mahound, Saladin, and the princes of Christendom. Further it is said, that a body of the crusaders have sailed from Cyprus, and are bound to Italy. Dost see aught in this, my popinjay?”
“The Saints help thy senses! Surely you do not mean to say that the soldiers of Albarone are returning home?”
“Marry but I do. I mean to wend towards the nearest seaport; I mean to—”
“By our Lady,” interrupted Guiseppo, “I spy the dawning of our Lord Adrian’s day. I do by heaven!”
And thus conversing they pursued their way along the forest path.
Higher and higher rose the sun in the Heavens, and its beams shone upon the armor of a gallant company which journeyed in brilliant array along a bye-road leading thro’ a wide and shadowy forest.
Near the head of the company, on a stout black steed, rode a tall, stalwart man, full six feet high, broad shouldered, in form, with a stern, weather beaten countenance. His long white hair, escaping from beneath his helmet, the vizor of which was raised, fell upon his mail-clad shoulders, and his beard, frosted by time and battle toil, swept over the iron plate that defended his muscular chest.
On either side rode his Esquires, mounted on horses dark and stout, as that of their knight commander. They were brothers, and side by side had fought in a thousand battles.
Both tall, muscular, and dark featured; both having dark eyes, dark shaggy brows, stiff hair and beard of the same dark hue, they were known among the ranks of the crusaders as the twin brothers—the brave Esquire Damian, and the gallant Esquire Halbert.