After that he fought again with the army at Damascus, and saw how the
princes betrayed one another, when the Emperor Conrad had come again,
so that the siege of the strong town came to naught, and the armies
were scattered among the rich gardens to gather fruit and drink strong
wine, while their leaders wrangled. Also at Ascalon he drew sword
again, and again he saw failure hanging over all, like an evil shadow,
and chilling the courage in men, so that there was murmuring, and
clamouring for the homeward path. There he saw how the great armies
went to ruin and fell to pieces, because, as the holy Bernard had
known, there was not the faith of other days, and also because there
was no great leader, as Eleanor had told the abbot himself at Vezelay;
and it was a sad sight, and one to sicken the souls of good men.
But though he fought with all his might when swords were out, there was
no sadness in him for all these things, for life and hope were bright
before him. Little by little, too, he had heard how all the poor
pilgrims left at Attalia had perished; but he knew that if he had led
them, Beatrix would have died there in the court of the little house
in Jerusalem, and he held her life more dear than the lives of many,
whom his own could hardly have saved.
Moreover, and last of all, he had learned and understood that the cause
of God lies not buried among stones in any city, not even in the most
holy city of all; for the place of Christ's suffering is in men's
sinful hearts, and the glory of his resurrection is the saving of a
soul from death to everlasting life, in refreshment and light and
peace.
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