"You will go bravely as becomes your father's son. That is right. As to funds, Hugh, all that you require shall be sent by trusty hands to Messer Tiepolo Aldobrandini in Venice. He is a right trusty banker who traffics through all the lands of Outremer. You have only to acquaint him as to its disposition. The Venetians are godless people, lacking in respect for the Holy Apostle of Rome, but they are to be trusted in business matters." "You think of everything, Father Prior," acknowledged Hugh. "An I live through my venturing to return to Chesby, Crowden Priory shall be the richer by a saintly relic." "'Twill not be declined, Hugh, but I would have you believe I think for you because I love you. Betwixt us and Lord Godwin we shall hold Chesby safe against quarrelling barons and the greenwood men." Hugh rose with a clang of metal. "You are armed, fair son?" Hugh flushed. "For practice sake," he explained. "Soon I must wear armour by day and night. I accustom myself to it with this light suit of mail beneath my surcoat." Prior Thomas crossed himself involuntarily. "Our Lady guard you," he exclaimed. "'Tis sober truth few of those who pass to Outremer come home again." "With Ralph at my back I may go anywhere and return safe," answered Hugh. "I would I had another as brave and sturdy as he." "Certes, you will take a foison of men-at-arms!" expostulated the Prior. "That is not my mind." "But, fair son, you must needs have a few spears behind you! The dangers----" "Dangers do not court the traveller who travels simply," asserted Hugh. "Nay, Father Thomas, an I do not change my mind, Ralph and I fare forth alone upon this quest. It were not right to risk my men. The King hath not approved a crusade in England, and the mission is my own." He spoke quietly, with a strange, suppressed dignity that Prior Thomas noticed with a sigh. "How much you have aged in the year just past!" said the priest. "I think of the day you rode in with Edith, a twelve-month gone, the sparkle of spring in your eyes and cheeks, youthful, carefree, happy. And to-day--fair son, you are no longer a youth! Hast become a man." "I pray so," answered Hugh soberly. "An St. James aid me, I shall prove it anon. Give you god-den, holy father. I must ride for Chesby." In the Priory courtyard he mounted the grey stallion that one of the lay brothers brought forward, and rode slowly through the gateway, past the plantations and Priory farms into the bosky shades of Crowden Wood. His thoughts were busy with old memories, and he gave no heed to the grey stallion's pace. The wise horse tossed his head as he felt the loose rein, peered sideways, then trotted toward the London Road.