Over his armour he wore a surcoat of heavy linen, embroidered by the monks of Crowden with his own device of an open eye, signifying his quest. On his head perched a light cap of cloth, but a massive square helmet hung at his saddle-bow. Plate-armour was then unknown, but the science of tempering and fashioning steel had made tremendous strides since the Crusades had introduced Western Europe to the tricks of Asiatic smiths, and the chain-mail was both lighter and in some ways stronger, than plate-armour, for it lacked the tricky joints that were the weakness of plated suits. On his left arm Hugh carried a small triangular shield, an evolution from the big kite-shaped shield which the Norsemen had brought to Southern Europe. His right arm supported an ashwood lance, unpennoned. To his side was strapped a great war-sword, a mighty, broad-bladed, two-edged weapon, with a blunted point, so delicately balanced that it swung in the wielder's hand as easily as a wooden ferule, despite its ponderous weight. Matteo was armed in much the same fashion, save that his armour was Eastern-wrought and showed such novel features as fingered mail gloves and a loose hood of mail that could be thrown back over the shoulders or drawn at will around the head under the conical helmet, with nasal, that formed his headgear in action. And instead of the war-sword of Frankish Europe, the jongleur bore the scimiter of the Saracens, a weapon distinguished as much by its exquisite keenness as by its peculiar facility for slashing in-fighting. He also carried a steel mace, hung by a thong from his saddle. His lance, too, was of lighter structure than Hugh's, and could be thrown like a javelin at close quarters. Ralph rode behind the two others, leading a pack pony. He wore a short mail-jacket, made over by a local armourer from an old suit of Hugh's, the length having gone into patches to broaden the shoulders and chest. To his back was strapped his long-bow, unstrung. His armament was completed by a sword and well-filled quiver. The comrades rode in silence until they had reached the highroad. Then Matteo struck up a lilting song, and Hugh's melancholy took flight at the visions conjured up before his eyes anew. Passing fair was Mellisante, Passing fair and right content. Never wooed a gentler knight Than Sir Gui de Bras. In the darkened forest-glade Oft she waited unafraid, Starry-eyed and maiden-white-- For Sir Gui de Bras. Matteo broke off with a little laugh. "We might better be singing the Benedicite than such love verses," he jibed. "What say you, Hugh, shall we go upon our way pilgrim-solemn or shall we take joy in the wine of life and let all the world know of it?" "No pilgrim-gait for me," answered Hugh lightly. "I am all for music and laughter. How now, Ralph, what say you?" Ralph heaved a deep sigh.