“That thou shalt soon see,” said Simon. “A right free and merry home and company have we up yonder,”—and he pointed towards Mount Lebanon. “Thou and Guy?” “No, no; Guy turned craven. Could not endure our wanderings in the marshes and hills, pined for his wife forsooth, fell sick, and must needs go and give himself up to the Pope; so he sings the penitential psalms night and day.” “And we heard thou wast dead at Siena.” “Thou hearest many a false tale,” said Simon. “Of my death thou shalt judge, if thou wilt turn thy horse and ride with me to our hill-fort of Ain Gebel, in Galilee. They say ’tis the very one which King David or King Herod, whichever it was, could only take by letting down his men-at-arms in boxes! I should like to see the boxes that we could not send skimming down the abyss! And a wondrous place they have left us—vaults as cool as a convent wine-cellar, fountains out of the rock, marble columns.” “But, brother, for whom do you hold it? For the King of Cyprus or—?” “For myself, boy! For King Simon, an it like you better! None can touch me or my merry band there, and a goodly company we are—pilgrims grown wiser, and runaway captives, and Druses, and bold Arabs too: and the choicest of many a heretic Armenian merchants’ caravan is ours, and of many a Saracen village; corn and wine, fair dames, and Damascus blades, and Arab steeds. Nothing has been wanting to me but thee and vengeance, and both are, I hope, on the way!” “Not I, certainly!” said Richard, shrinking back in horror: “I—a sworn crusader!” “Tush, what are we but crusaders too, boy? ’Tis all service against the Moslem! Thy patron saint sent thee to me to-day from special care for thy safety.” “How so!” exclaimed Richard. “If peril threaten my Lord, I must be with him at once.” “Much hast thou gained by hanging on upon him,” said Simon scornfully, glancing at Richard’s heels; “not so much as a pair of gilt spurs! Creeping after him like a hound, thou hast not even the bones!” “I have all I seek,” said Richard. “I have his brotherly kindness. I have the opportunity of redeeming my name. Nay, I should even regret any honour that took me from the services I now perform. Simon, didst thou but know his love for our father!” “Silence, base caitiff!” thundered Simon; “I know his deeds, and that is enough for me! Look here, mean-spirited as thou wert to be taken with his hypocrisy, I have pity on thee yet. I would spare thee what awaits thee in the camp!” “For heaven’s sake, Simon, dost know of any attack of the Emir? The Princess must at once be conveyed into the town! As thou art a man, a Christian, speak plainly!” “Foolish lad, the infidels are quiet enough! No peril threatens the camp! Only if thou wilt run thy head into it, thou art like to find it too hot to hold thee!” “I am afraid of no accusations,” said Richard; “my Lord knows and trusts me.” Simon laughed a loud ringing scornful laugh.