But while the warriors stood thus prepared for death, leaning sternly on their swords, lances, and halberts, lo! there came before them, an apparition so unexpected and brilliant, that they believed it could be no other than a messenger from Heaven sent to comfort them, in this the last and bitterest hour of their lives. The reality did in truth somewhat accord with what they had imagined,--for now the consecrated father of the church, the pope himself, in all the pomp and grandeur of his holy office, walked up and down among the ranks. The soldiers all fell on their knees before this venerable ruler of the Christian world, whereupon he spoke as follows:--“My beloved children, if the Saracens should obtain the victory in this place, those who saved their own lives by flight would certainly not find themselves able to defend Rome and the holy sanctuaries of the capital. Therefore I have come forth to share your fate, whether it be victory or death; for God forbid, that the pope should think of his own safety, if the holiest temples of Europe are to be profaned, and perchance levelled with the ground. According to the best reason and judgment of men, such must be the consequence of this invasion, and we have only to shed our last heart’s blood on these green meadows for his glory and our own salvation; but if it should be the will of Heaven, all may turn out far differently from what we now expect. Let us then wait with composure and tranquillity for whatever fortune he may send to us, whether it be joy or sorrow; and now receive, with hearts both courageous and humble, his blessing.” The pope then stretched out his arms, and implored the blessing of Heaven on that band of warriors, who at his signal immediately rose up, and looked forward confidently and with calm courage to the events which were now before them, while he walked in the van of this little squadron, invested with the symbols of his holy rank.