In its courtyard they were parted, Rosamund being led away by officers of state, whilst the brethren were taken to chambers that had been prepared, where, after they had bathed, they were served with food.  Scarcely had they eaten it when Hassan appeared, and bade them follow him.  Passing down various passages and across a court they came to some guarded doors, where the soldiers demanded that they should give up their swords and daggers.

“It is not needful,” said Hassan, and they let them go by.  Next came more passages and a curtain, beyond which they found themselves in a small, domed room, lit by hanging silver lamps and paved in tesselated marbles, strewn with rich rugs and furnished with cushioned couches.

At a sign from Hassan the brethren stood still in the centre of this room, and looked about them wondering.  The place was empty and very silent; they felt afraid—­of what they knew not.  Presently curtains upon its further side opened and through them came a man turbaned and wrapped in a dark robe, who stood awhile in the shadow, gazing at them beneath the lamps.

The man was not very tall, and slight in build, yet about him was much majesty, although his garb was such as the humblest might have worn.  He came forward, lifting his head, and they saw that his features were small and finely cut; that he was bearded, and beneath his broad brow shone thoughtful yet at times piercing eyes which were brown in hue.  Now the prince Hassan sank to his knees and touched the marble with his forehead, and, guessing that they were in the presence of the mighty monarch Saladin, the brethren saluted in their western fashion.  Presently the Sultan spoke in a low, even voice to Hassan, to whom he motioned that he should rise, saying: 

“I can see that you trust these knights, Emir,” and he pointed to their great swords.

“Sire,” was the answer, “I trust them as I trust myself.  They are brave and honourable men, although they be infidels.”

The Sultan stroked his beard.

“Ay,” he said, “infidels.  It is a pity, yet doubtless they worship God after their own fashion.  Noble to look on also, like their father, whom I remember well, and, if all I hear is true, brave indeed.  Sir Knights, do you understand my language?”

“Sufficiently to speak it, lord,” answered Godwin, “who have learned it since childhood, yet ill enough.”

“Good.  Then tell me, as soldiers to a soldier, what do you seek from Salah-ed-din?”

“Our cousin, the lady Rosamund, who, by your command, lord, was stolen from our home in England.”

“Knights, she is your cousin, that I know, as surely as I know that she is my niece.  Tell me now, is she aught more to you?” and he searched them with those piercing eyes.

Godwin looked at Wulf, who said in English: 

“Speak the whole truth, brother.  From that man nothing can be hid.”

Then Godwin answered: