Without further ceremony, Curthose summoned his adherents, mounted his horse, and, with a soul glowing with pride and a spirit swelling with indignation, rode out from Rouen and away towards Flanders. Passing from country to country, from castle to castle, and from court to court, Curthose travelled over Europe, publishing his grievances and demanding aid. Nor was his story, told in eloquent language, without influence on the magnates whom he visited. Counts, dukes, and princes testified their sympathy, and drew their purses. Their liberality, however, had no beneficial influence on the wanderer's circumstances. In fact, Curthose was one of those men who can give the most sapient advice as to the affairs of their friends, while their own affairs are going to ruin as rapidly as their enemies could wish. All that he received to support his cause slipped through his fingers. Mountebanks, parasites, and women of equivocal reputation perpetually preyed upon him. All that Curthose obtained from barons and princes to buy arms and equip men passed into the hands of those who ministered to his amusement or contributed to his pleasure. Hard pressed for money, inconvenienced by poverty and all its concomitant evils, compelled to beg afresh, but, probably, with less success than on the first occasion, he found himself under the necessity of going to the usurers, and borrowing gold at exorbitant interest. Such were the steps by which Curthose entered upon that fatal path which finally, notwithstanding his great fame as a prince and soldier, and as a champion of the Cross, conducted him to disaster and defeat, and to a long and dismal captivity in the dungeons of Cardiff. XLI. THE CONQUEROR AND HIS HEIR. While Robert Curthose was journeying from castle to castle and from court to court, Philip, King of France, now in his twenty-seventh year, and William the Conqueror's sworn foe, was offering bribes and protection to all the discontented Normans. After wandering about Flanders, Lorraine, and Aquitaine, Curthose at length turned his horse's head towards France, made for St. Germain, and craved sympathy and support from the great grandson of Hugh Capet. Never did monarch listen to exiled prince with more eagerness than Philip of France listened to the heir of Normandy. Fearing and hating William as he did, Philip smiled with delight at the idea of setting the son to pull down the father, and readily promised his utmost aid. After much conversation on the subject, Curthose formed his plan of action, and, under the auspices of the French king, repaired to Gerberoy, a castle on the frontiers of Normandy.