“We thank you, Prince, for your praise,” said Godwin gravely, but Wulf stepped forward, took his hand, and shook it.

“That was an ill trick, Prince, which you played us yonder in England,” he said, “and one that brought as good a warrior as ever drew a sword—­our uncle Sir Andrew D’Arcy—­to an end sad as it was glorious.  Still, you obeyed your master, and because of all that has happened since, I forgive you, and call you friend, although should we ever meet in battle I still hope to pay you for that drugged wine.”

Here Hassan bowed, and said softly: 

“I admit that the debt is owing; also that none sorrow more for the death of the noble lord D’Arcy than I, your servant, who, by the will of God, brought it upon him.  When we meet, Sir Wulf, in war—­and that, I think, will be an ill hour for me—­strike, and strike home; I shall not complain.  Meanwhile, we are friends, and in very truth all that I have is yours.  But now I come to tell you that the princess Rose of the World—­Allah bless her footsteps!—­is recovered from her fatigues, and desires that you should breakfast with her in an hour’s time.  Also the doctor waits to tend your bruises, and slaves to lead you to the bath and clothe you.  Nay, leave your hauberk; here the faith of Salah-ed-din and of his servants is your best armour.”

“Still, I think that we will take them,” said Godwin, “for faith is a poor defence against the daggers of these Assassins, who dwell not so far away.”

“True,” answered Hassan; “I had forgotten.”  So thus they departed.

An hour later they were led to the hall, where presently came Rosamund, and with her Masouda and Hassan.

She was dressed in the rich robes of an Eastern lady, but the gems with which she had been adorned as the bride elect of Al-je-bal were gone; and when she lifted her veil the brethren saw that though her face was still somewhat pallid, her strength had come back to her, and the terror had left her eyes.  She greeted them with sweet and gentle words, thanking first Godwin and then Wulf for all that they had done, and turning to Masouda, who stood by, stately, and watchful, thanked her also.  Then they sat down, and ate with light hearts and a good appetite.

Before their meal was finished, the guard at the door announced that messengers had arrived from the Sultan.  They entered, grey-haired men clad in the robes of secretaries, whom Hassan hastened to greet.  When they were seated and had spoken with him awhile, one of them drew forth a letter, which Hassan, touching his forehead with it in token of respect, gave to Rosamund.  She broke its seal, and, seeing that it was in Arabic, handed it to her cousin, saying: 

“Do you read it, Godwin, who are more learned than I.”

So he read aloud, translating the letter sentence by sentence.  This was its purport: 

“Salah-ed-din, Commander of the Faithful, the Strong-to-aid, to his niece beloved, Rose of the World, princess of Baalbec:—­