‘Then,’ said Saint-Pol, ’I hate him for Berengere’s sweet sake.  That is a good and clean hatred, I believe.  That wasted lady, writhing white on a bed, moved me to pure pity.  If I loved her before I will love her now with whole service, not daring belie my knighthood.  I love that queen and intend to serve her.  I have never seen such pitiful beauty before.  What!  Is the man insatiate?  Shall he have everything?  He shall have nothing.  That will serve for me, I hope.  Now, Marquess, it is your turn.’

The Marquess struck out at the flies.  ‘I hate him,’ he said, ’because, before the King of France, he called me a liar and threatened me with ignominious death.’  He gasped here, and looked round him to see what effect he had made.  Saint-Pol’s eyes (green-grey like his sister’s) were upon him, rather coldly; Gurdun’s on the floor still.  The Archduke was scratching in his beard; and the chorus of flies swelled and shrilled.  The Marquess needed alliances.

‘Eh, my friends,’ he said, almost praying, ‘will this not serve me?’

Said Saint-Pol, ‘Marquess, listen to this man.  Speak, Gilles.’

Gilles looked up.  ’I have tried to kill him.  I had my chance fair.  I could not do it.  I shall try again, for the law is on my side.  To you, lords, I shall say nothing, for I am a man ashamed to speak of what I desire to do, not yet certain whether I can accomplish it.  This I say, the man is my liege lord, but a thief for all that.  I loved my Lady Jehane when she was twelve years old and I a page in her father’s house.  I have never loved any other woman, and never shall.  There are no other women.  She gave herself to me for good reason, and he himself gave her into my hand for good reason.  And then he robbed me of her on my wedding day, and has slain my father and young brother to keep her.  He has given her a child:  enough of this.  Dastard!  I will follow and follow until I dare to strike.  Then I will kill him.  Let me alone.’  Gilles, red and gloomy, had to jerk the words out:  he was no speaker.  The Marquess had a fierce eye.

‘Ha, De Gurdun,’ he said, ’we need thee, good knight.  But come out of this accursed fly-roost, and we shall show thee a better way than thine.  It is the flies that make thee afraid.’

‘Eh, damn the flies,’ said Gilles.  ’They will never disturb me.  They do but seek their meat.’

‘They disturb me horribly,’ said the Marquess, with Italian candour.

Saint-Pol laughed.  ‘I told you that I could bring you in a man,’ he said.  ‘Now, Marquess, you have our two clean reasons.  What is yours?’

‘I have given you mine,’ said Montferrat, shifting his feet.  ’He called me a liar.’

‘It lacks cogency,’ said Saint-Pol.  ’One must have clean reasons in an unclean place.’  The Marquess broke out into blasphemy.

’May hell scorch us all if I have no reasons!  What!  Has he not kept me from my kingdom?  Guy of Lusignan will be king by his means.  What is Philip against Richard?  What am I?  What is the Archduke?’ He had forgotten that the Archduke was there.