“Then let us drink to that,” cried Le Sourd, suddenly cheerful. “Will you raise your goblet with me, as a man of honor? I know that this place is not where you would normally come, monsieur, but”—he looked around the room and spoke the words clearly so that every man in the place should hear—“you are welcome at my table anytime, and from this day, all men here are your friends.” He paused and looked at de Cygne in a way that indicated that he too, in his own way, was a man of honor. “Should you ever be in trouble in the streets of Paris, monsieur, tell them that Jean Le Sourd is your friend, and you will never be harmed.”

This grandiloquent statement was probably true. Even the thieves in the other quarters of the city would respect the protection of a powerful chief like Le Sourd. And had Guy de Cygne been a native of Paris, he would have understood that he had just been given a gift worth far more than his golden trinket from the Holy Land.

But he raised his goblet of wine all the same, and thanked his host for his hospitality and friendship. And Le Sourd glanced at his son, and then looked around the tavern like a satisfied monarch, and told himself again that the kings of the feudal world were, after all, nothing more than himself writ large—in which belief, it must be said, he was entirely correct.

“My son, Richard, will accompany you to where you are staying so that we may know how to find you,” he said. And although Guy wasn’t delighted by the idea of taking Le Sourd’s son to the house of his father’s friend, it seemed the only way to get his pendant back. So after renewed expressions of mutual esteem, he and Richard set off.

He met the girl the next day. The Renard family lived in a fine house on the Right Bank near the river. She wasn’t so bad. Her name was Cécile. She had red hair and a pale oval face. Some people would have thought her beautiful. His father’s friend, who knew the Renard family well, came with him, and on their way back he told Guy: “She likes you. So did her parents. It’s up to you now, young man.” And his tone of voice said: “If you turn down this dowry, you’re a fool.”

“Does she want to live in the country?” Guy had asked.

“Of course she does.”

“She didn’t say much, but her family talked about Paris a lot.”

“Naturally. That’s all she knows. She’ll love the country when she gets there.” His father’s friend smiled. “You might as well say an unmarried girl’s a virgin, therefore she won’t enjoy being married.”

He was quite surprised when they returned to find Le Sourd’s son, Richard, awaiting them. He came forward and made a polite bow with his shaggy black locks. As he looked up at de Cygne, he smiled.