“I?” she answered.  “Oh, I think there is more in this than any of us dream.

“I think,” she added in a voice of distress and with an involuntary wringing motion of the hands, “that for this house and those who dwell in it time is big with death, and that sharp-eyed palmer is its midwife.  How strange is the destiny that wraps us all about!  And now comes the sword of Saladin to shape it, and the hand of Saladin to drag me from my peaceful state to a dignity which I do not seek; and the dreams of Saladin, of whose kin I am, to interweave my life with the bloody policies of Syria and the unending war between Cross and Crescent, that are, both of them, my heritage.”  Then, with a woeful gesture, Rosamund turned and left them.

Her father watched her go, and said: 

“The maid is right.  Great business is afoot in which all of us must bear our parts.  For no little thing would Saladin stir thus—­he who braces himself as I know well, for the last struggle in which Christ or Mahomet must go down.  Rosamund is right.  On her brow shines the crescent diadem of the house of Ayoub, and at her heart hangs the black cross of the Christian and round her struggle creeds and nations.  What, Wulf, does the man sleep already?”

“Like a dog, for he seems outworn with travel.”

“Like a dog with one eye open, perhaps.  I do not wish that he should give us the slip during the night, as I want more talk with him and other things, of which I have spoken to Godwin.”

“No fear of that, uncle.  I have locked the stable door, and a sainted palmer will scarcely leave us the present of such a mule.”

“Not he, if I know his tribe,” answered Sir Andrew.  “Now let us sup and afterwards take counsel together, for we shall need it before all is done.”

An hour before the dawn next morning Godwin and Wulf were up, and with them certain trusted men who had been warned that their services would be needed.  Presently Wulf, bearing a lantern in his hand, came to where his brother stood by the fire in the hall.

“Where have you been?” Godwin asked.  “To wake the palmer?”

“No.  To place a man to watch the road to Steeple Hill, and another at the Creek path; also to feed his mule, which is a very fine beast—­too good for a palmer.  Doubtless he will be stirring soon, as he said that he must be up early.”

Godwin nodded, and they sat together on the bench beside the fire, for the weather was bitter, and dozed till the dawn began to break.  Then Wulf rose and shook himself, saying: 

“He will not think it uncourteous if we rouse him now,” and walking to the far end of the hall, he drew a curtain and called out, “Awake, holy Nicholas! awake!  It is time for you to say your prayers, and breakfast will soon be cooking.”

But no Nicholas answered.

“Of a truth,” grumbled Wulf, as he came back for his lantern, “that palmer sleeps as though Saladin had already cut his throat.”  Then having lit it, he returned to the guest place.