They knew that Jerusalem had fallen, for they heard the shouts of triumph of the Moslems, and from far away, through their prison bars could see the endless multitude of fugitives passing the ancient gates laden with baggage, and leading their children by the hand, to seek refuge in the cities of the coast.  At this sight, although it was so sad, Rosamund was happy, knowing also that now she would not suffer in vain.

At length the camp broke up, Saladin and many of the soldiers entering Jerusalem; but still the pair were left languishing in their dismal cells, which were fashioned from old tombs.  One evening, while Rosamund was kneeling; at prayer before she sought her bed, the door of the place was opened, and there appeared a glittering captain and a guard of soldiers, who saluted her and bade her follow him.

“Is it the end?” she asked.

“Lady,” he answered, “it is the end.”  So she bowed her head meekly and followed.  Without a litter was ready, in which they placed her and bore her through the bright moonlight into the city of Jerusalem and along the Way of Sorrow, till they halted at a great door, which she knew again, for by it stood the ancient arch.

“They have brought me back to the Convent of the Holy Cross to kill me where I asked that I might be buried,” she murmured to herself as she descended from the litter.

Then the doors were thrown open, and she entered the great courtyard of the convent, and saw that it was decorated as though for a festival, for about it and in the cloisters round hung many lamps.  More; these cloisters and the space in front of them were crowded with Saracen lords, wearing their robes of state, while yonder sat Saladin and his court.

“They would make a brave show of my death,” thought Rosamund again.  Then a little cry broke from her lips, for there, in front of the throne of Saladin, the moonlight and the lamp-blaze shining on his armour, stood a tall Christian knight.  At that cry he turned his head, and she grew sure that it was Wulf, wasted somewhat and grown pale, but still Wulf.

“So we are to die together,” she whispered to herself, then walked forward with a proud step amidst the deep silence, and, having bowed to Saladin, took the hand of Wulf and held it.

The Sultan looked at them and said: 

“However long it may be delayed, the day of fate must break at last.  Say, Franks, are you prepared to drink the dregs of that cup I promised you?”

“We are prepared,” they answered with one voice.

“Do you grieve now that you laid down your lives to save those of all Jerusalem?” he asked again.

“Nay,” Rosamund answered, glancing at Wulf’s face; “we rejoice exceedingly that God has been so good to us.”

“I too rejoice,” said Saladin; “and I too thank Allah Who in bygone days sent me that vision which has given me back the holy city of Jerusalem without bloodshed.  Now all is accomplished as it was fated.  Lead them away.”