"My lord King, yes!" replied the tall man. "It is
eighteen years since in Lisbon, looking upon the sea one day,
I said to myself, `Is there a question that is not to be
answered? This ocean is to be crossed. Then why do not I
cross it? There is Cipango, Cathay and India! Gold and
spices are there, and here lie ships, and between, when all
is said, is only sea! God made the sea to be sailed! Yonder
they worship idols, here we worship Christ. There are
idols, here is Christ. Once a Christopherus carried Christ
across water!' Eighteen years ago. I said, `I can do it!'
I say it to-day, my lord and my lady. I can do it!"

Of the seated great ones only the Queen's spirit appeared
to answer his. He seemed to enchant her, to take her with
him. But the King's cool face regarded him with something
like dislike. He spoke in an edged voice. "Saint Christopher
asked no great wage. That is the point, Master
Christopherus, so let us to it! At last the Queen and I
say `We agree' to this enterprise, which may bring forth
fruit or may not, or may mean mere empty loss of ships
and men and of our monies! Yet we say `yea.' But we
do not say `yea ', Master Christopherus, to the too great
ferry fee which you ask! I say `ask', but verily the tone
is of command!"

The man whom they called Master Christopherus made a
slow, wide gesture of deprecation. The Archbishop took
the word. "Too much! You ask a hundred times too
much! I must say to you that it is unchristianly arrogance.