"Thou wilt do both." Rashi replied.
"What mean you?" demanded Godfrey, angrily.
"This. Jerusalem will fall to thee. So it is ordained, and thou wilt become its king."
"Ha, ha! So you deem it wisest to pronounce a blessing after all," interrupted Godfrey. "I am content."
"I have not spoken all," said the rabbi, gravely. "Three days wilt thou rule and no more."
Godfrey turned pale.
"Shall I return?" he asked, slowly.
"Not with thy multitude of chariots. Thy vast army will have dwindled to three horses and three men when thou reachest this city."
"Enough," cried Godfrey. "If you think to affright me with these ominous words, you fail in your intent. And hearken, Rabbi of the Jews, your words shall be remembered. Should they prove incorrect in the minutest detail—if I am King of Jerusalem for four days, or return with four horsemen—you shall pay the penalty of a false prophet and shall be consigned to the flames. Do you understand? You shall be put to death."
"I understand well," returned Rashi, quite unmoved, "it is a sentence which you and your kind love to pronounce with or without the sanction of those whom you call your holy men. It is not I who fear, Godfrey de Bouillon. I seek not to peer into the future to assure my own safety."