"Now that you have crossed the dark path of Marozia's sister I fear the ambushed gorge and the black arrow that sings from the hidden depths. Why seek the dark waters of Satan, when the white walls of Christ rise luminously before you?"
"What is the import of these strange words so strangely uttered?" Tristan turned to the monk with a puzzled air.
"That shall be made known to you in time. Treason lurks everywhere. Seal your ears against the Siren's song. Some say she is a vampire returned to earth, doomed to live on, as long as men are base enough to barter their soul for her kisses. And yet—how much longer? The Millennium draws nigh. The End of Time is near."
There was a pause. Tristan tried to speak, but the words would not come from his lips.
At last with an effort he stammered:
"At the risk of incurring your censure, Father—even to the palace of Theodora must I wend my steps to recover that which is my own."
And he informed the Monk of Cluny how he had lost his poniard and his scarf of blue Samite.
"Why not send one you trust to fetch them back?" protested the monk. "It is not well to brave the peril twice."
"Myself must I go, Father. For once and all time I mean to break her spell."
"Deem you to accomplish that which no man hath—and live?"