Godfrey roused himself by a great effort.
"As God lives," he protested, "we cannot suffer the Crusade to fail. We cannot say to all the widows and orphans of France, 'Your husband, your father, died like headstrong fools.'"
"We have wrought all that the paladins of Charlemagne wrought, and more," tossed back Robert the Norman, hopelessly.
A voice lower down amongst the lesser chiefs interrupted:
"You are wrong, my lord of Normandy."
The Conqueror's son rose in his dignity.
"Wrong? Who speaks? I will not have my honor questioned."
The others saw Richard Longsword rising also. His face was very set and stern, he held his head proudly.
"I say it, 'You are wrong.' No man has done all that the paladins of old have done until, like them, he stops prating of the anger of God, and dies with his face toward the paynim and twenty slain around. Take heed, my lords, lest we think too much of our unworthiness, too little of the captivity of the Tomb of Our Lord; and how in freeing it the price of all our sins is paid. I did not come to council to learn how to lead my men to Joppa, but how we were one and all to mount the breach, or perish in the moat."
There was a ring in Richard's voice hard as the beaten anvil; and, before Robert could reply, more than one voice cried: "So say I! And I! Never can we slink back, and look in the eyes of the women of France!"