And they did so, for the brave
Germans were much broken and worn because of their marches and defeats
before they had gone back to Nicaea, and the armies of the King and
Queen went on without them, to a great meadow by the Maeander, where
they encamped to keep the Christmas feast with great thanksgiving for
their preservation thus far.
On Christmas eve Gilbert came into camp with his companions, and when
they were seen, a great cry arose throughout the army, and men left
their fires and their mending of arms and clothes, and ran out to meet
him, a gaunt man in rusty armour, on a gaunt horse, followed by others
in no better plight. His mantle was all stained with rain and mud, and
was rent in many places, and his mail was brown, save where it had been
chafed bright by his moving; his great Norman horse was rough with his
winter coat and seemed all joints and bones, and Dunstan and Alric rode
in rags with the men-at-arms. His face was haggard with weariness and
lack of food, but stern and high, and the first who saw him ceased
shouting and looked up at him with awe; but then he smiled so gently
and kindly that the cheer broke out again and rang across the camp, far
and wide.
Presently those who cheered began to follow the little train of
horsemen, first by twos and tens and twenties, till thousands were
drawn into the stream and pressed round him, so that he was obliged to
move slowly. For many weeks they had heard his name, knowing that it
meant safety for them, and wonderful tales had been told over the camp-
fires of his endurance and courage.
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