"How will you go? Antioch resists. We can detach no large force. Your own St. Julieners can do nothing."
"My lord," said Richard, steadily, "I shall go alone, save for one comrade—my brother, Musa the Egyptian emir,—who will fail me when God Himself loves evil. He is Moslem, but I would sooner have him at my side than any Christian cavalier from Scotland to Sicily; for what human craft and wit and strength can do, that can he."
The Duke, leaning heavily upon his sword, a smile half sad, half merry, upon his face, slowly replied: "You are both very young; God loves such—whatsoever their faith! You are right, De St. Julien—you must go. I will ask Bishop Adhemar to pray for your safe return."
So Richard returned to his tents and made the last preparations, said farewell to many, and last of all to Sebastian. The priest's heart, he knew, was very full when Richard knelt for the words of blessing, and at the end Sebastian gave him the kiss of peace.
"Go forth, dear son," was the word of Sebastian; "fight valiantly for Christ; fear not death. But by the grace of God bring the lost lamb home. And I—I will wrestle with God, beseeching that Michael and Raphael and Gabriel, the warriors of heaven, may spread their broad shields over you. And may He who plucked the three children from the fire, and Daniel from the paw of the lion, and Peter from the dungeon of Herod, deliver you also, and her whom you seek! Amen."
When Sebastian had finished, Richard mounted Rollo. He wore no armor save the Valencia hauberk beneath his mantle; but Trenchefer was girded to his side. Musa was beside him on a deer-limbed Arabian. They crossed the Orontes on the bridge of boats behind the camp of Duke Godfrey. The tents and bright river orchards were fading from sight; on before lay the sunlit rolling Syrian country. Suddenly the thunder of a charger at speed came up behind them. Richard turned inquiringly. A moment later the strange rider had dashed abreast—had drawn rein; and Longsword rubbed his two eyes, doubting his vision—beside him was Godfrey, Duke of Lorraine.
"My lord—" the Norman had begun. The Duke, he saw, was in no armor, and bore only his sword. Godfrey galloped along beside Rollo.
"Fair son," said he, smiling, "has the noble lady, Mary the Greek, less chance of succor if three cavaliers ride to her aid than if only two?"
"Impossible!" cried Longsword, distrusting now his ears; "it is you that are mad, my Lord Duke. Your position, your duties, the army! Doubtless we ride to death, as you well said."
Godfrey's laugh was merry as that of a boy.