On came Rosamund, and now, behold! the lord Al-je-bal rose also and, giving her his hand, seated her by him on the divan.

“Show no surprise, Wulf,” muttered Godwin, who had caught a warning look in the eyes of Masouda as she took up her position behind Rosamund.

Now the feast began.  Slaves running to and fro, set dish after dish filled with strange and savoury meats, upon the little inlaid tables, those that were served to Sinan and his guests fashioned, all of them, of silver or of gold.

Godwin and Wulf ate, though not for hunger’s sake, but of what they ate they remembered nothing who were watching Sinan and straining their ears to catch all he said without seeming to take note or listen.  Although she strove to hide it and to appear indifferent, it was plain to them that Rosamund was much afraid.  Again and again Sinan presented to her choice morsels of food, sometimes on the dishes and sometimes with his fingers, and these she was obliged to take.  All the while also he devoured her with his fierce eyes so that she shrank away from him to the furthest limit of the divan.

Then wine, perfumed and spiced, was brought in golden cups, of which, having drunk, he offered to Rosamund.  But she shook her head and asked Masouda for water, saying that she touched nothing stronger, and it was given her, cooled with snow.  The brethren asked for water also, whereon Sinan looked at them suspiciously and demanded the reason.  Godwin replied through Masouda that they were under an oath to touch no wine till they returned to their own country, having fulfilled their mission.  To this he answered meaningly that it was good and right to keep oaths, but he feared that theirs would make them water-drinkers for the rest of their lives, a saying at which their hearts sank.

Now the wine that he had drunk took hold of Sinan, and he began to talk who without it was so silent.

“You met the Frank Lozelle to-day,” he said to Godwin, through Masouda, “when riding in my gardens, and drew your sword on him.  Why did you not kill him?  Is he the better man?”

“It seems not, as once before I worsted him and I sit here unhurt, lord,” answered Godwin.  “Your servants thrust between and separated us.”

“Ay,” replied Sinan, “I remember; they had orders.  Still, I would that you had killed him, the unbelieving dog, who has dared to lift his eyes to this Rose of Roses, your sister.  Fear not,” he went on, addressing Rosamund, “he shall offer you no more insult, who are henceforth under the protection of the Signet,” and stretching out his thin, cruel-looking hand, on which gleamed the ring of power, he patted her on the arm.

All of these things Masouda translated, while Rosamund dropped her head to hide her face, though on it were not the blushes that he thought, but loathing and alarm.