" said the undaunted Cardinal.

"God give me patience with you," Affonso Henriques answered him. "Listen
to me now, lord Cardinal." And he leaned forward on his dagger, burying
the point of it some inches into the deal table. "That you should punish
me with the weapons of the Faith for the sins that you allege against me
I can understand and suffer. There is reason in that, perhaps. But will
you tell me what reasons there can be in punishing a whole city for an
offence which, if it exists at all, is mine alone?--and in punishing it
by a curse so terrible that all the consolations of religion are denied
those true children of Mother Church, that no priestly office may be
performed within the city, that men and women may not approach the
altars of the Faith, that they must die unshriven with their sins upon
them, and so be damned through all eternity? Where is the reason that
urges this?"

The cardinal's smile had changed from one of benignity to one of guile.

"Why, I will answer you. Out of their terror they will be moved to
revolt against you, unless you relieve them of the ban. Thus, Lord
Prince, I hold you in check. You make submission or else you are
destroyed."

Affonso Henriques considered him a moment. "You answer me indeed,"
said he, and then his voice swelled up in denunciation. "But this is
statecraft, not religion. And when a prince has no statecraft to match
that which is opposed to him, do you know what follows? He has recourse
to force, Lord Cardinal. You compel me to it; upon your own head the
consequences."

The legate almost sneered. "What is the force of your poor lethal
weapons compared with the spiritual power I wield? Do you threaten me
with death? Do you think I fear it?" He rose in a surge of sudden wrath,
and tore open his scarlet robe. "Strike here with your poniard. I
wear no mail. Strike if you dare, and by the sacrilegious blow destroy
yourself in this world and the next."

The Infante considered him. Slowly he sheathed his dagger, smiling a
little. Then he beat his hands together. His men-at-arms came in.

"Seize me those two Roman whelps," he commanded, and pointed to Giannino
and Pierlulgi. "Seize them, and make them fast. About it!"

"Lord Prince!" cried the legate in a voice of appeal, wherein fear and
anger trembled.

It was the note of fear that heartened Affonso Henriques. "About it!"
he cried again, though needlessly, for already his men-at-arms were
at grips with the Card