Not as such entered Germanos into the camp. Before him went a body of armed men, followed by six acolytes swinging censers, then the cross-bearer, holding high his glittering silver symbol wrought but lately, on which Germanos had lavished the greater part of the booty which had been his at the taking of Kalavryta, and then borne in a chair on the shoulders of four monks the archbishop himself. His head was bare, for in his hands he carried the gold vessels of the sacrament, those which the Emperor Palæologus had given to the monastery at Megaspelaion, and over his shoulders flowed his thick, black hair, just touched with gray. His cope, another priceless treasure from his own sacristy, was fastened round in front of his neck with a gold clasp, set with one huge, ancient emerald. It covered him from shoulder almost to foot, all shimmering white of woven silk, with a border wrought with crimson and gold pomegranates, and thinly below showed the white line of the alb and the ends of his embroidered stole. Of his other vestments, seven in all, the girdle was a rope of gold thread, the knee-piece hanging below it was embroidered with the three Levitical colors, the cuffs were of lace from Kalabaka, and the chasuble was of cambric, close fitting and sleeved according to the use of Metropolitans. Behind came another priest carrying the office of the church, bound in crimson leather with gold clasps, and the remainder of his armed guard followed--in all, three hundred men. [Illustration: "BORNE IN A CHAIR ON THE SHOULDERS OF FOUR MONKS"] It was an act of inconceivable folly, but a folly of a certain magnificent sort, for in Germanos's mind the only thought had been the glory of the church. He had travelled five days from Kalavryta, and so far he had been received by the posts of the Greek army with reverence and respect. But his reception here, he knew, was the touchstone of the success of his party, for the scornful Mainats looked askance on clergy, and left them to do their praying alone. But he had come, so he believed, to demand the vassalage of the people to the King of kings, and that duty, so he thought, admitted neither delay nor compromise. Yanni, who was lounging on the wall with Mitsos in the afternoon sun, preparatory to starting on a night raid down in the plains, saw him coming and whistled ominously. "There will be mischief," he said, softly, to Mitsos. "Germanos is a good man and true, but these little primates are not all like him." "I wish they would leave us alone," grumbled Mitsos; "that little monkey-faced Charalambes is doing a peck of harm. He tells the men that all the fighting is for the glory of God. I dare say it is, but there are blows to be struck, and a paper man would strike as well as he. Oh, Yanni, but Germanos has got all his fine clothes on. Would I had been born an archbishop!"