"What do they say?" Hugh whispered to Matteo. "The old Emperor is not such a fool as he looks," returned the jongleur. "He asks what brings these Franks in his son's train, and how much their services cost." "They find no joy in each other's company," commented Hugh. "Nay, not even the Empress shows pleasure that her son is returned to her safe and whole." "The Angeloi are a cold-blooded race," replied Matteo. "They have no affection. Fathers murder sons; sons blind fathers. It is all one to them, so be it there are power and luxury for them after the crime. As to the Empress, she is not this youth's mother. He was born of an earlier marriage." Alexius rose from his knees, and faced the Crusaders. "Lords of the host," he said in his harsh, unpleasant voice, "my father thanks you by me for the great services you have done him, and he bids me say that he wots well that these services are such that he could not reward you too much an he gave you the whole of his empire. But he craves now that you will permit him to withdraw with the chiefs of the host and his own counsellors that they may devise means whereby all shall be satisfied. And he bids those other Frankish lords and knights here present to take their pleasure as they will during the conclave and to treat his palace as their home." The Emperor tottered to his feet, and leaning on the arms of his son and Comnenus, who came promptly to his side, led Boniface and Dandolo through a doorway which communicated with the private Imperial apartments. The remaining lords and knights stood about the hall, either talking among themselves or with such of the Greek nobles as understood the lingua franca. Pages appeared with goblets and jars of wine, offering to serve all who were thirsty. Hugh surveyed the room again, and in despair came to a sudden determination. "I will present myself to Sir Cedric," he said to Matteo. "Certes, he will know who I am, and can tell me of----" "Ay, do so, comrade," returned Matteo, smiling merrily. "It may be she is not so far away as it seemeth you." "I misdoubt she is wed or gone hence," said Hugh gloomily. He swung his shield to his back, and started to walk toward the dais where Sir Cedric stood in converse with Villehardouin and Count Baldwin. But he had not walked three steps when a silvery voice saluted him. "By your leave, sir knight! Pray do not haste so! And have you no thought for old friends of the days before you had golden spurs to your heels?" "Edith!" exclaimed Hugh. He turned, with a clash of arms, and stared uncomprehendingly at the elegant, slim figure in the clinging silken draperies and high conical headdress. Could this be the Edith he had known? The comrade of boyish escapades, the breeched and jerkined rider of the black mare, the woman-child, hoydenish and demure, creature of tears and smiles? This wondrously beautiful person, with the haughty manner of a princess born to command?