“We will go on,” they answered with one breath.

“Why?  What have you to gain?  You seek a certain maiden.  Why seek her here whom you say has been taken to Salah-ed-din?  Because the Al-je-bal in bygone days swore to befriend one of your blood.  But that Al-je-bal is dead, and another of his line rules who took no such oath.  How do you know that he will befriend you—­how that he will not enslave or kill you?  I have power in this land, why or how does not matter, and I can protect you against all that dwell in it—­as I swear I will, for did not one of you save my life?” and she glanced at Godwin, “except my lord Sinan, against whom I have no power, for I am his slave.”

“He is the enemy of Saladin, and may help us for his hate’s sake.”

“Yes, he is the enemy of Salah-ed-din now more than ever.  He may help you or he may not.  Also,” she added with meaning, “you may not wish the help he offers.  Oh!” and there was a note of entreaty in her voice, “think, think!  For the last time, I pray you think!”

“We have thought,” answered Godwin solemnly; “and, whatever chances, we will obey the command of the dead.”

She heard and bowed her head in assent, then said, looking up again: 

“So be it.  You are not easily turned from your purpose, and I like that spirit well.  But hear my counsel.  While you are in this city speak no Arabic and pretend to understand none.  Also drink nothing but water, which is good here, for the lord Sinan sets strange wines before his guests, that, if they pass the lips, produce visions and a kind of waking madness in which you might do deeds whereof you were afterwards ashamed.  Or you might swear oaths that would sit heavy on your souls, and yet could not be broken except at the cost of life.”

“Fear not,” answered Wulf.  “Water shall be our drink, who have had enough of drugged wines,” for he remembered the Christmas feast in the Hall at Steeple.

“You, Sir Godwin,” went on Masouda, “have about your neck a certain ring which you were mad enough to show to me, a stranger—­a ring with writing on it which none can read save the great men that in this land are called the dais.  Well, as it chances, the secret is safe with me; but be wise; say nothing of that ring and let no eye see it.”

“Why not?” asked Godwin.  “It is the token of our dead uncle to the Al-je-bal.”

She looked round her cautiously and replied: 

“Because it is, or was once, the great Signet, and a day may come when it will save your lives.  Doubtless when the lord who is dead thought it gone forever he caused another to be fashioned, so like that I who have had both in my hand could not tell the two apart.  To him who holds that ring all gates are open; but to let it be known that you have its double means death.  Do you understand?”

They nodded, and Masouda continued: 

“Lastly—­though you may think that this seems much to ask—­trust me always, even if I seem to play you false, who for your sakes,” and she sighed, “have broken oaths and spoken words for which the punishment is to die by torment.  Nay, thank me not, for I do only what I must who am a slave—­a slave.”