So thither I took Barnabas, and there, with the help of the prison physician--he to whom I had given the poisoned figs and the dead monkey to be examined--I nursed him back to life and health.
His illness was long, for one of the blows which he had received crippled him, and during it we talked much together.

He was a very sweet-natured man and holy, a native of Britain, whose father or grandfather had been a Dane, and therefore there was a tie between us.
In his youth he was a soldier.

Having been taken prisoner in some war, he came to Italy, where he was ordained a priest at Rome.

Afterwards he was sent as a missionary to Egypt, where he was appointed the head of a monastery, and in the end elected to a bishopric.

But he had never forgotten the Danish tongue, which his parents taught him as a child, and so we were able to talk together in that language.
Now it would seem that since that night when the Caesar Nicephorus strove to hang himself, I had obtained and studied a copy of the Christian Scriptures--how I do not know--and therefore was able to discuss these matters with Barnabas the bishop.