How say you to that, my Lord
Bishop?"
A stout churchman who had ridden behind the King on a solid bay
cob, well-suited to his weight and dignity, jogged up to the
monarch's elbow. "How say you, sire? I was watching the goshawk
on the partridge and heard you not."
"Had I said that I would add two manors to the See of Chichester,
I warrant that you would have heard me, my Lord Bishop."
"Nay, fair lord, test the matter by saying so," cried the jovial
Bishop.
The King laughed aloud. "A fair counter, your reverence. By the
rood! you broke your lance that passage. But the question I
debated was this: How is it that since the Crusades have
manifestly been fought in God's quarrel, we Christians have had so
little comfort or support in fighting them. After all our efforts
and the loss of more men than could be counted, we are at last
driven from the country, and even the military orders which were
formed only for that one purpose can scarce hold a footing in the
islands of the Greek sea. There is not one seaport nor one
fortress in Palestine over which the flag of the Cross still
waves. Where then was our ally?"
"Nay, sire, you open a great debate which extends far beyond this
question of the Holy Land, though that may indeed be chosen as a
fair example. It is the question of all sin, of all suffering, of
all injustice--why it should pass without the rain of fire and
the lightnings of Sinai.
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