His lips were white, his eyes blazed, and
his voice was suddenly harsh and commanding.
"Back!" he cried, almost savagely.
To Gilbert's very great astonishment, the single word produced an
instantaneous and wonderful effect. The riders lowered their weapons,
looked at one another, and then sheathed them; the others, who were
loosing Gilbert's horses and mules, suddenly desisted at the sound of
the friar's voice. Then the one nearest to Gilbert, who was a shade
less grimy than the rest, and who wore in his cap a feather from a
pheasant's tail, slipped to the ground, and bending low under his
tattered brown cloak, took the hem of the monk's frock in his right
hand and kissed it fervently. Gilbert stood aside, leaning upon his
unsheathed sword, and his wonder grew as he looked on.
"We ask your pardon, Fra Arnoldo," cried the chief, still kneeling.
"How could we guess that you were breakfasting out here this morning?
We thought you far in the north."
"And therefore thought yourselves free to rob strangers and steal
cattle, and cut one anothers' throats?"
"This is probably a part of the civilization of a republic," observed
Gilbert, with a smile.
But the highwaymen, all dismounted now, came crowding to the feet of
Arnold of Brescia in profound, if not lasting, contrition, and they
begged a blessing of the excommunicated monk.
CHAPTER IX
Gilbert lodged at the sign of the Lion, over against the tower of Nona,
by the bridge of Sant' Angelo.
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