midnight
So they went out together and rode to the royal tent . Here the bishop was admitted , leaving them without . Presently he returned and beckoned to them , and as they passed , the guards whispered to them : `` A strange council , sirs , and a fateful ! '' Already it was near midnight , but still the great pavilion was crowded with barons and chief captains who sat in groups , or sat round a narrow table made of boards placed upon trestles . At the head of that table sat the king , Guy of Lusignan , a weak-faced man , clad in splendid armour . On his right was the white-haired Count Raymond of Tripoli , and on his left the black-bearded , frowning Master of the Templars , clad in his white mantle on the left breast of which the red cross was blazoned . Words had been running high , their faces showed it , but just then a silence reigned as though the disputants were weary , and the king leaned back in his chair , passing his hand to and fro across his forehead .