of ours is all ringed round with heathenesse—­Moors, Danes, Bulgars, Arabs, Turks—­ peoples white, brown, black, but caring naught for those things which are dear and precious to Christian men and women.  I have been where the beacons flashed from hill to hill along the shore of Britain to warn the villages of Danish pirates.  I have seen the Moors from Barbary come swarming over the borders of Granada and Andalusia until the Christians were all but driven back into the mountains.  Our faith is not their faith, our oaths are not their oaths, nor our ways their ways.

“Now the paynim of the desert live not in towns and cities as we do, but in tents.  The wealth of a chief is in his flocks and herds,—­sheep and goats, camels, the swift desert horses.  The wealth of a sultan is in the lances he can call to his banner in time of war, under their own leaders.  There is only one war-cry that makes one host of them all, and that is ‘Allah-hu!’ Saladin might promise ten times over, and thousands of his subjects would never know it or be bound by it.  And what can you do when a promise is of no value?

“It is the same with the heathen who come raiding over the North Sea.  They plunder and pillage as they list, whether it be palace, abbey or nunnery that lies in their way.  Honor has no meaning to those who prey on the helpless.”

“My lord,” said Dickon hesitatingly, “you mean that—­that—­honor is for all men—­though they take no vows?”

The stranger’s voice rang like steel on steel.  “Honor is for all true men--and women—­king or knight, merchant or peasant, bond or free.  A slave may be loyal to his master—­the master must keep faith with the slave.  Christ died for all—­for their souls, not their houses of stone or brick or timber.  Do you think, if He were on earth now, He would choose to be served only by those of gentle blood?”

This was a new thought to Dickon, though he had always known the stories of the healing of the blind and the leprous, and the birth at Bethlehem.  The knight went on, rising and taking up his cloak, “As for the magic you have heard of, it is nothing but the practice of centuries.  The desert chiefs, from whom the Moslems are mostly descended, are ever wandering from place to place, where their beasts can find grazing.  Hence all their wealth must be carried on pack saddles.  They can make with their many-colored shawls and rugs a palace out of a tent pitched for the night.  They work leather, iron, brass, because this can be done without long stay in any one place.  And when a people can have but few luxuries they grow very skillful in the making of those few.  They carry their wisdom in such matters, as they do their wealth, wherever they go, and hand it down from father to son.  That is all the sorcery they use.