"No, Damoiselle," said she. "The Grey Friar said we worship not the cross, but the good God that died thereon. And I suppose He is as near to us at the bottom of the hill as at the top."
Well, it does look reasonable, I must say. But it must be one of Marguerite's queer notions. There would be no good in relics and holy places if that were always true.
This island of Cyprus is large and fair. It was of old time dedicated by the Paynims to Venus, their goddess of beauty: but when it fell into Christian hands, it was consecrated anew to Mary the holy Mother.
From Cyprus we sailed again, a day and a half, to Tyre; but we did not land there, but coasted southwards to the great city of Acre, and there at last we took land in Palestine.
Here we were lodged in the castle, which is very strong: and we found already here some friends of Amaury, the Baron de Montluc and his two sons, who had landed about three weeks before us. Hence we despatched a letter to Guy. I was the writer, of course, for Amaury can write nothing but his name; but he signed the letter with me. Messire Renaud de Montluc, who was setting out for the Holy City, undertook to see the letter safe. We were to follow more slowly.
We remained at Acre about ten days. Then we set forth, Amaury and I, the Baron de Montluc and his son Messire Tristan, and several other knights who were waiting for a company, with our respective trains; and the Governor of Acre lent us an additional convoy of armed men, to see us safe to the Holy City.
This was my first experience of tent life; and very strange it felt, and horribly insecure. I, accustomed to dwell within walls several feet thick, with portcullis and doors guarded by bolts and bars, in a chamber opening on an inner court, to have no more than one fold of goats' hair canvas between me and the outside world! True, the men-at-arms were camped outside; but that was no more than a castle garrison: and where was the castle?
"Margot," said I, "dost thou not feel horribly frightened?"
For of course, she, a villein, would be more accessible to fear than a noble.
"Oh no, my Damoiselle," she said very quietly. "Is it not in the holy Psalter that 'the Angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them'? We are as safe as in the Castle of Lusignan."