"Are your men trustworthy?"
"I know not, Father! For a slight service I chanced to do the Lord Alberic he made me captain of the guard in place of one who had incurred his displeasure. My men are Swiss and Lombards, a Spaniard or two—some Calabrians—no Romans."
"Therein lies your salvation," interposed the Benedictine. "How many guard this tomb?"
"Some four score men—why do you ask?"
"I hardly know—save that there lurks some dark mystery behind the curtain. Let no man—nor woman—relax your watchfulness. There are tempests that destroy even the cedars of Lebanon," the monk continued with meaning. "And such a one may burst one night."
"Your words are dark, Father, and fill me with misgivings."
"And well they should," Odo interposed with a penetrating glance at the young captain. "For rumor hath it that another bird has strayed into the Lady Theodora's bower—"
Tristan colored under the monk's scrutiny.
"I was present at her feast. Yet I know not how I got there!"
The monk looked puzzled.