“That is not the answer that our Holy Father awaits.” “It is the answer that I send.” “Rash, rebellious youth, beware!” The cardinal’s anger flamed up, and his voice swelled. “I come armed with spiritual weapons of destruction. Do not abuse the patience of Mother Church, or you shall feel the full weight of her wrath released against you.” Exasperated, Affonso Henriques bounded to his feet, his face livid now with passion, his eyes ablaze. “Out! Away!” he cried. “Go, my lord, and go quickly, or as God watches us I will add here and now yet another sacrilege to those of which you accuse me.” The prelate gathered his ample robes about him. If pale, he was entirely calm once more. With stern dignity, he bowed to the angry youth, and so departed, but with such outward impassivity that it would have been difficult to say with whom lay the victory. If Affonso Henriques thought that night that he had conquered, morning was to shatter the illusion. He was awakened early by a chamberlain at the urgent instances of Emigio Moniz, who was demanding immediate audience. Affonso Henriques sat up in bed, and bade him to be admitted. The elderly knight and faithful counsellor came in, treading heavily. His swarthy face was overcast, his mouth set in stern lines under its grizzled beard. “God keep you, lord,” was his greeting, so lugubriously delivered as to sound like a pious, but rather hopeless, wish. “And you, Emigio,” answered him the Infante. “You are early astir. What is the cause?” “I’ll tidings, lord.” He crossed the room, unlatched and flung wide a window. “Listen,” he bade the prince. On the still morning air arose a sound like the drone of some gigantic hive, or of the sea when the tide is making. Affonso Henriques recognized it for the murmur of the multitude. “What does it mean?” he asked, and thrust a sinewy leg from the bed. “It means that the Papal Legate has done all that he threatened, and something more. He has placed your city of Coimbra under a ban of excommunication. The churches are closed, and until the ban is lifted no priest will be found to baptize, marry, shrive or perform any other Sacrament of Holy Church. The people are stricken with terror, knowing that they share the curse with you. They are massing below at the gates of the alcazar, demanding to see you that they may implore you to lift from them the horror of this excommunication.” Affonso Henriques had come to his feet by now, and he stood there staring at the old knight, his face blenched, his stout heart clutched by fear of these impalpable, blasting weapons that were being used against him. “My God!” he groaned, and asked: “What must I do?” Moniz was preternaturally grave. “It is of the first importance that the people should be pacified.” “But how?” “There is one way only—by a promise that you will submit to the will of the Holy Father, and by penance seek absolution for yourself and your city.”