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stopher greeted Hook on his return from his abortive hunt.“The king must think so,” Hook said.“Why?”“Giving us a day’s halt?”“Our gracious king,” the priest said, “is so mad that he might just be hoping the French will catch us.”“Mad? Like the French king?”“The French king is really mad,” Father Christopher said, “no, our king is just convinced of God’s favor.”“Is that madness?”Father Christopher paused as Melisande came to join them. She leaned on Hook, saying nothing. She was thinner than Hook had ever seen her, but the whole army was thin now; thin, hungry, and ill. Somehow Hook and his wife had both avoided the bowel-emptying sickness, though many others had caught the disease and the camp stank of it. Hook put his arm about her, holding her close and thinking suddenly that she had become the most precious thing in all his world. “I hope to God we have escaped,” Hook said.“And our king half hopes that,” Father Christopher said, “and half hopes that he can prove God’s favor.”“And that’s his madness?”“Beware of certainty. There are men in the French army, Hook, who are as convinced as Henry that God is on their side. They’re good men too. They pray, they give alms, they confess t