"And mine, fair son. But prithee tell me how knew you where to seek me?" Sir James's voice had steadied. He sat by Hugh on the dungeon floor, one arm encircling his shoulders. "Nay, I knew not. But I have a friend, one Matteo of Antioch, a jongleur, a man wise and cunning in the affairs of Outremer, and from him and others I heard how you had disappeared in Constantinople. By his advice I journeyed hither, trusting that I might learn what had become of you. I had no settled plan. My one thought was to find you." "But you took great risk, Hugh." "Nay, for I came with the host." "The host!" repeated Sir James. "What host, fair son?" "Know you not----" Hugh's heart leaped into his throat as he grasped the fact of the awful isolation in which his father had lain. "I know naught," answered Sir James sadly. "For nigh eight years, Hugh, the world hath gone its way, and James de Chesby ignorant thereof. What kings have passed, who reigneth upon earth, what wars have been fought and lost and won--I know not. I have bided here in my dungeon, living in the memories of the past and in the hope that some day Heaven would welcome me none the less for a shameful end." The tears came again to Hugh's eyes. "There is much to tell," he began. "Nay, it can wait," interrupted his father. "Before all else, I would hear of you yourself, Hugh. You completed your twenty-one years at Chesby, as my charter provided?" "Ay, father, but with an ill grace." "I doubt not, but I am glad of it, Hugh. It gave you a few years more of English freedom and the sunlight ere you came to this." "But what avails this, an I have found you!" Sir James hugged Hugh's mailed shoulders. "Selfish I am, God wot," he said. "But I cannot find it in my heart to grieve. Ah, Hugh, for a score of years I have thought of you and wondered how you fared--ay, if you lived. I dealt ill by you, fair son. I was wrong to allow my sore dolour for her that was your mother to sway me from the duty of a parent. But St. James be my witness that I intended to return ere you came to manhood. When I voyaged to Constantinople for the last time 'twas with intent to fulfil my errand there and then return to England." "If only you had!" "God did not will it so. Doubt not, Hugh, our Lord dealt wisely when he brought me this suffering. Perchance, I had grown selfish in my quest for fame. But enough of this. I must have your story. 'Twill seem like a breath of the free world outside. This host you speak of, fair son--how came it hither?"