But before that, very early in the morning, after a night spent with his head in his hands, he rode out with Gaston and Des Barres to a hill which they call Montjoy, because from there the pilgrims, tending south, see first among the folded hills Jerusalem itself lie like a dove in a nest.  The moon was low and cold, the sun not up; but the heavens and earth were full of shadowless light; every hill-top, every black rock upon it stood sharply cut out, as with a knife.  King Richard rode silently, his face covered in a great hood; neither man with him dared speak, but kept the distance due.  So they skirted hill after hill, wound in and out of the deep valleys, until at last Gaston pricked forward and touched his master on the arm.  Richard started, not turned.

‘Montjoy, dear master,’ said Gaston.

There before them, as out of a cup, rose a dark conical hill with streamers of white light behind and, as might be, leaping from it.  ’The light shines on Jerusalem,’ said Gaston:  Richard, looking up at the glory, uncovered his head.  Sharp against the light stood a single man on Montjoy, who faced the full sun.  They who saw him there were still deep in shade.

‘Gaston and Des Barres,’ said King Richard, when they had reached the foot of the wet hill, ‘stay you here.  Let me go on alone.’

Gaston demurred.  ’The hill is manned, sire.  Beware an ambush.  You have enemies close by.’  He hinted at Saint-Pol.

‘I have only one enemy that I fear, Gaston,’ said the King; ’and he rides my horse.  Do as I tell you.’

They obeyed; so he went under their anxious eyes.  Slowly he toiled up the bridle-path which the feet of many pilgrims had worn into the turf; slowly they saw him dip from the head downwards into the splendour of the dawn.  But when horse and man were bathed full in light, those two below touched each other and held hands; for they saw him hoist his great shield from his shoulder and hold it before his face.  So as he stayed, screening himself from what he sought but dared not touch, the solitary watcher turned, and came near him, and spoke.

‘Why does the great King cover his face?’ said Gilles de Gurdun; ’and why does he, of his own will, keep the light of God from him?  Is he at the edge of his dominion?  Hath he touched the limit of his power?  Then I am stronger than my Duke; for I see the towers shine in the sun; I see the Mount of Olives, Calvary also, and the holy temple of God.  I see the Church of the Sepulchre, the battlements and great gates of the city.  Look, my lord King.  See that which you desire, that you may take it.  Fulke of Anjou was King of Jerusalem; and shall not Richard be a king?  What is lacking?  What is amiss?  For kings may desire that which they see, and take that which they desire, though other men go cursing and naked.’

Said King Richard from behind his shield, ’Is that you, Gurdun, my enemy?’

‘I am that man,’ said Gilles, ’and bolder than you are, since I can look unoffended upon the place where our Lord God suffered as a man.  Suffering, it seems, maketh me sib with God.’