It was evening, and Godwin’s tired horse stumbled slowly through the great camp of the Saracens without the walls of fallen Ascalon.  None hindered him, for having been so long a prisoner he was known by many, while others thought that he was but one of the surrendered Christian knights.  So he came to the great house where Saladin lodged, and bade the guard take his name to the Sultan, saying that he craved audience of him.  Presently he was admitted, and found Saladin seated in council among his ministers.

“Sir Godwin,” he said sternly, “seeing how you have dealt by me, what brings you back into my camp?  I gave you brethren your lives, and you have robbed me of one whom I would not lose.”

“We did not rob you, sire,” answered Godwin, “who knew nothing of this plot.  Nevertheless, as I was sure that you would think thus, I am come from Jerusalem, leaving the princess and my brother there, to tell the truth and to surrender myself to you, that I may bear in her place any punishment which you think fit to inflict upon the woman Masouda.”

“Why should you bear it?” asked Saladin.

“Because, Sultan,” answered Godwin sadly, and with bent head, “whatever she did, she did for love of me, though without my knowledge.  Tell me, is she still here, or has she fled?”

“She is still here,” answered Saladin shortly.  “Would you wish to see her?”

Godwin breathed a sigh of relief.  At least, Masouda still lived, and the terror that had struck him in the night was but an evil dream born of his own fears and sufferings.

“I do,” he answered, “once, if no more.  I have words to say to her.”

“Doubtless she will be glad to learn how her plot prospered,” said Saladin, with a grim smile.  “In truth it was well laid and boldly executed.”

Calling to one of his council, that same old imaum who had planned the casting of the lots, the Sultan spoke with him aside.  Then he said: 

“Let this knight be led to the woman Masouda.  Tomorrow we will judge him.”

Taking a silver lamp from the wall, the imaum beckoned to Godwin, who bowed to the Sultan and followed.  As he passed wearily through the throng in the audience room, it seemed to Godwin that the emirs and captains gathered there looked at him with pity in their eyes.  So strong was this feeling in him that he halted in his walk, and asked: 

“Tell me, lord, do I go to my death?”

“All of us go thither,” answered Saladin in the silence, “but Allah has not written that death is yours to-night.”

They passed down long passages; they came to a door which the imaum, who hobbled in front, unlocked.

“She is under ward then?” said Godwin.

“Ay,” was the answer, “under ward.  Enter,” and he handed him the lamp.  “I remain without.”

“Perchance she sleeps, and I shall disturb her,” said Godwin, as he hesitated upon the threshold.