There was a knuckle of caution in him, for he had the blood of Flemish traders in his veins, though enriched by many nobler streams.

"The profit is certain," a cynic had whispered to him ere they left Aigues Mortes.

"Should we conquer we shall grow rich, and if we fail we shall go to heaven." The phrase had fitted some of his moods, notably the black ones at Limasol, but now he was all aflame with the quixotry of the Crusader.

He neither needed nor sought wealth, nor was he concerned about death.

His feet trod the sacred soil of his faith, and up in the hills which rimmed the seaward plain lay all the holiness of Galilee and Nazareth, the three tabernacles built by St.Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration, the stone whence Christ ascended into heaven, the hut at Bethlehem which had been the Most High's cradle, the sanctuary of Jerusalem whose every stone was precious.