Like Constantinople across the strait, Galata had not been peaceful last night either.
Crusader nobles from Gaul, the Low Countries, and Germania had blamed one another and argued without end.
Some resented Bela III, some blamed the Venetians for deliberately inflating the price of passage and leading them into such a grave sin, while others believed that although Lothar was the Crusader King of Egypt, he had no right to pass judgment on them.
Outside Galata's churches, many Crusaders and clergymen had spent the entire night repenting devoutly.
Many of them had been won over by the divine favor Lothar had displayed. They had already felt guilty about raising swords against their brothers in Christ, and now only hoped Lothar would forgive their sins and send them onward to continue their campaign against the heathens, thereby redeeming themselves.
A hermit from Amiens in Gaul stood on high ground with tears in his eyes and cried out:
"Everyone, we cannot continue down this mistaken path! His Majesty Lothar, the great divinely favored sovereign who personally defeated Saladin, reclaimed the Patriarchate of Alexandria, and defended the holy city of Jerusalem, has come to Constantinople in person, determined to stop this war. Can we still allow the Devil to deceive us and deepen our sins?"
"No, we cannot keep fighting!"
"That's right! Let those who insist on going their own way face His Majesty Lothar's dragonfire themselves!"
"Honored brother, tell us how we may repent!"
The hermit shouted, "Of course, by going east and continuing the great cause of holy war!"
"Lord, have mercy on us sinners who have been deceived. Forgive our faults and cleanse us of our sins. We swear to fight the heathens to the bitter end and spend our lives glorifying Your holy name! Amen!"
"Lord, have mercy on