“Then I promised and asked, ‘What of Masouda?’ He said that he rode back at speed to save her also, as had been arranged, and that was why he did not take me to Jerusalem himself.  But how that was to be done he was not sure as yet; only he was sure that she was hidden away safely, and would find a way of escape when she wished it.  And—­and—­you know the rest, and here, by the grace of God, we three are together again.”

“Ay,” said Godwin, “but where is Masouda, and what will happen to her who has dared to venture such a plot as this?  Oh! know you what this woman did?  I was condemned to die in place of Wulf—­how, does not matter; you will learn it afterwards—­and the princess of Baalbec was brought to say me farewell.  There, under the very eyes of Saladin, Masouda played her part and mimicked you so well that the Sultan was deceived, and I, even I, was deceived.  Yes, when for the first and last time I embraced her, I was deceived, although, it is true, I wondered.  Also since then a great fear has been with me, although here again I was deceived, for I thought I feared—­for you.

“Now, hark you, Wulf; take Rosamund and lodge her with some lady in this city, or, better still, place her in sanctuary with the nuns of the Holy Cross, whence none will dare to drag her, and let her don their habit.  The abbess may remember you, for we have met her, and at least she will not refuse Rosamund a refuge.”

“Yes, yes; I mind me she asked us news of folk in England.  But you?  Where do you go, Godwin?” said his brother.

“I?  I ride back to Ascalon to find Masouda.”

“Why?” asked Wulf.  “Cannot Masouda save herself, as she told her uncle, the Arab, she would do?  And has he not returned thither to take her away?”

“I do not know,” answered Godwin; “but this I do know, that for the sake of Rosamund, and perhaps for my sake also, Masouda has run a fearful risk.  Bethink you, what will be the mood of Saladin when at length he finds that she upon whom he had built such hopes has gone, leaving a waiting woman decked out in her attire.”

“Oh!” broke in Rosamund.  “I feared it, but I awoke to find myself disguised, and she persuaded me that all was well; also that this was done by the will of Wulf, whom she thought would escape.”

“That is the worst of if,” said Godwin.  “To carry out her plan she held it necessary to lie, as I think she lied when she said that she believed we should both escape, though it is true that so it came about.  I will tell you why she lied.  It was that she might give her life to set you free to join me in Jerusalem.”

Now Rosamund, who knew the secret of Masouda’s heart, looked at him strangely, wondering within herself how it came about that, thinking Wulf dead or about to die, she should sacrifice herself that she, Rosamund, might be sent to the care of Godwin.  Surely it could not be for love of her, although they loved each other well.  From love of Godwin then?  How strange a way to show it!