“Now, as it chanced, I had a friend, a dark and secret man named Jebal, the young sheik of a terrible people, whose cruel rites no Christian understands.  They are the subjects of one Mahomet, in Persia, and live in castles at Masyaf, on Lebanon.  This man had been in alliance with the Franks, and once in a battle I saved his life from the Saracens at the risk of my own, whereon he swore that did I summon him from the ends of the earth he would come to me if I needed help.  Moreover, he gave me his signet-ring as a token, and, by virtue of it, so he said, power in his dominions equal to his own, though these I never visited.  You know it,” and holding up his hand, Sir Andrew showed them a heavy gold ring, in which was set a black stone, with red veins running across the stone in the exact shape of a dagger, and beneath the dagger words cut in unknown characters.

“So in my plight I bethought me of Jebal, and found means to send him a letter sealed with his ring.  Nor did he forget his promise, for within twelve days Zobeide and I were galloping for Beirut on two horses so swift that all the cavalry of Ayoub could not overtake them.  We reached the city, and there were married, Rosamund.  There too your mother was baptised a Christian.  Thence, since it was not safe for us to stay in the East, we took ship and came safe home, bearing this ring of Jebal with us, for I would not give it up, as his servants demanded that I should do, except to him alone.  But before that vessel sailed, a man disguised as a fisherman brought me a message from Ayoub and his son Saladin, swearing that they would yet recapture Zobeide, the daughter of one of them and sister of the other.

“That is the story, and you see that their oath has not been forgotten, though when in after years they learned of my wife’s death, they let the matter lie.  But since then Saladin, who in those days was but a noble youth, has become the greatest sultan that the East has ever known, and having been told of you, Rosamund, by that traitor Lozelle, he seeks to take you in your mother’s place, and, daughter, I tell you that I fear him.”

“At least we have a year or longer in which to prepare ourselves, or to hide,” said Rosamund.  “His palmer must travel back to the East before my uncle Saladin can have our answer.”

“Ay,” said Sir Andrew; “perhaps we have a year.”

“What of the attack on the quay?” asked Godwin, who had been thinking.  “The knight Lozelle was named there.  Yet if Saladin had to do with it, it seems strange that the blow should have come before the word.”

Sir Andrew brooded a while, then said: 

“Bring in this palmer.  I will question him.”

So the man Nicholas, who was found still eating as though his hunger would never be satisfied, was brought in by Wulf.  He bowed low before the old knight and Rosamund, studying them the while with his sharp eyes, and the roof and the floor, and every other detail of the chamber.  For those eyes of his seemed to miss nothing.