Affonso Henriques scented here an enemy, an ally
of his mother's, the bearer of a fresh declaration of hostilities.
Therefore of deliberate purpose he kept his seat, as if to stress
the fact that here he was the master.
"Lord Cardinal," he greeted the legate, "be welcome to my land of
Portugal."
The cardinal bowed stiffly, resentful of this reception. In his
long journey across the Spains, princes and nobles had flocked to
kiss his hand, and bend the knee before him, seeking his
blessing. Yet this mere boy, beardless save for a silky down
about his firm young cheeks, retained his seat and greeted him
with no more submissiveness than if he had been the envoy of some
temporal prince.
"I am the representative of our Holy Father," he announced, in a
voice of stern reproof. "I am from Rome, with these my well-
beloved nephews."
"From Rome?" quoth Affonso Henriques. For all his length of limb
and massive thews he could be impish upon occasion. He was impish
now. "Although no good has ever yet come to me from Rome, you
make me hopeful. His Holiness will have heard of the preparations
I am making for a war against the Infidel that shall carry the
Cross where new stands the Crescent, and sends me perhaps, a gift
of gold or assist me in this holy work.
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