“Here he is,” said Simon, nodding at the figure behind him, a short round figure wrapped in a thick frieze cloak, from which water ran.  “The other is the head boatman.”

“Good,” said Ramiro.  “Tell him and his companions to wait in the shed without, where liquor will be sent to them; they may be wanted later on.”

Then followed talk and oaths, and at length the man retreated grumbling.

“Enter, Father Thomas,” said Ramiro; “you have had a wet journey, I fear.  Enter and give us your blessing.”

Before he answered the priest threw off his dripping, hooded cape of Frisian cloth, revealing a coarse, wicked face, red and blear-eyed from intemperance.

“My blessing?” he said in a raucous voice.  “Here it is, Senor Ramiro, or whatever you call yourself now.  Curse you all for bringing out a holy priest upon one of your devil’s errands in weather which is only fit for a bald-headed coot to travel through.  There is going to be a flood; already the water is running over the banks of the dam, and it gathers every moment as the snow melts.  I tell you there is going to be such a flood as we have not seen for years.”

“The more reason, Father, for getting through this little business quickly; but first you will wish for something to drink.”

Father Thomas nodded, and Ramiro filling a small mug with brandy, gave it to him.  He gulped it off.

“Another,” he said.  “Don’t be afraid.  A chosen vessel should also be a seasoned vessel; at any rate this one is.  Ah! that’s better.  Now then, what’s the exact job?”

Ramiro took him apart and they talked together for a while.

“Very good,” said the priest at length, “I will take the risk and do it, for where heretics are concerned such things are not too closely inquired into nowadays.  But first down with the money; no paper or promises, if you please.”

“Ah! you churchmen,” said Ramiro, with a faint smile, “in things spiritual or temporal how much have we poor laity to learn of you!” With a sigh he produced the required sum, then paused and added, “No; with your leave we will see the papers first.  You have them with you?”

“Here they are,” answered the priest, drawing some documents from his pocket.  “But they haven’t been married yet; the rule is, marry first, then certify.  Until the ceremony is actually performed, anything might happen, you know.”

“Quite so, Father.  Anything might happen either before or after; but still, with your leave, I think that in this case we may as well certify first; you might want to be getting away, and it will save so much trouble later.  Will you be so kind as to write your certificate?”

Father Thomas hesitated, while Ramiro gently clinked the gold coins in his hand and murmured,

“I should be sorry to think, Father, that you had taken such a rough journey for nothing.”

“What trick are you at now?” growled the priest.  “Well, after all it is a mere form.  Give me the names.”