The veiled form started wildly, then sank back against the wall.

“Rosamund,” broke in Godwin, speaking in French, “I beseech you, be silent and do not unman me with words or tears.  It is best thus, and you know that it is best.  Wulf you love as he loves you, and I believe that in time you will be brought together.  Me you do not love, save as a friend, and never have.  Moreover, I tell you this that it may ease your pain and my conscience; I no longer seek you as my wife, whose bride is death.  I pray you, give to Wulf my love and blessing, and to Masouda, that truest and most sweet woman, say, or write, that I offer her the homage of my heart; that I thought of her in my last moments, and that my prayer is we may meet again where all crooked paths are straightened.  Rosamund, farewell; peace and joy go with you through many years, ay, and with your children’s children.  Of Godwin I only ask you to remember this, that he lived serving you, and so died.”

She heard and stretched out her arms, and, none forbidding him, Godwin walked to where she stood.  Without lifting her veil she bent forward and kissed him, first upon the brow and next upon the lips; then with a low, moaning cry, she turned and fled from that gloomy place, nor did Saladin seek to stay her.  Only to himself the Sultan wondered how it came about that if it was Wulf whom Rosamund loved, she still kissed Godwin thus upon the lips.

As he walked back to the death-place Godwin wondered also, first that Rosamund should have spoken no single word, and secondly because she had kissed him thus, even in that hour.  Why or wherefore he did not know, but there rose in his mind a memory of that wild ride down the mountain steeps at Beirut, and of lips which then had touched his cheek, and of the odour of hair that then was blown about his breast.  With a sigh he thrust the thought aside, blushing to think that such memories should come to him who had done with earth and its delights, knelt down before the headsman, and, turning to the bishop, said: 

“Bless me, father, and bid them strike.”

Then it was that he heard a well-known footstep, and looked up to see Wulf staring at him.

“What do you here, Godwin?” asked Wulf.  “Has yonder fox snared both of us?” and he nodded at Saladin.

“Let the fox speak,” said the Sultan with a smile.  “Know, Sir Wulf, that your brother was about to die in your place, and of his own wish.  But I refuse such sacrifice who yet have made use of it to teach my niece, the princess, that should she continue in her plottings to escape, or allow you to continue in them, certainly it will bring you to your deaths, and, if need be, her also.  Knights, you are brave men whom I prefer to kill in war.  Good horses stand without; take them as my gift, and ride with these foolish citizens of Jerusalem.  We may meet again within its streets.  Nay, thank me not.  I thank you who have taught Salah-ed-din how perfect a thing can be the love of brothers.”