So there they bode day after day, baked by the sweltering summer sun and rocked to and fro on the long ocean rollers till their hearts grew sick within them, and their bodies also, for some of them were seized with a fever common to the shores of Cyprus, of which two died.  Now and again some officer would come off from the shore with Lozelle and a little food and water, and bargain with them, saying that before their wants were supplied the prince Hassan must visit the Emperor and bring with him the fair lady who was his passenger, whom he desired to see.

Hassan would answer no, and double the guard about Rosamund, for at nights boats appeared that cruised round them.  In the daytime also bands of men, fantastically dressed in silks, and with them women, could be seen riding to and fro upon the shore and staring at them, as though they were striving to make up their minds to attack the ship.

Then Hassan armed his grim Saracens and bade them stand in line upon the bulwarks, drawn scimitar in hand, a sight that seemed to frighten the Cypriotes—­at least they always rode away towards the great square tower of Colossi.

At length Hassan would bear it no more.  One morning Lozelle came off from Limazol, where he slept at night, bringing with him three Cyprian lords, who visited the ship—­not to bargain as they pretended, but to obtain sight of the beauteous princess Rosamund.  Thereon the common talk began of homage that must be paid before food was granted, failing which the Emperor would bid his seamen capture the ship.  Hassan listened a while, then suddenly issued an order that the lords should be seized.

“Now,” he said to Lozelle, “bid your sailors haul up the anchor, and let us begone for Syria.”

“But,” answered the knight, “we have neither food nor water for more than one day.”

“I care not,” answered Hassan, “as well die of thirst and starvation on the sea as rot here with fever.  What we can bear these Cyprian gallants can bear also.  Bid the sailors lift the anchor and hoist the sail, or I loose my scimitars among them.”

Now Lozelle stamped and foamed, but without avail, so he turned to the three lords, who were pale with fear, and said: 

“Which will you do:  find food and water for this ship, or put to sea without them, which is but to die?”

They answered that they would go ashore and supply all that was needful.

“Nay,” said Hassan, “you bide here until it comes.”

In the end, then, this happened, for one of the lords chanced to be a nephew of the Emperor, who, when he learned that he was captive, sent supplies in plenty.  Thus it came about that the Cyprian lords having been sent back with the last empty boat, within two days they were at sea again.

Now Rosamund missed the hated face of the spy, Nicholas, and told Hassan, who made inquiry, to find—­or so said Lozelle—­that he went ashore and vanished there on the first day of their landing in Cyprus, though whether he had been killed in some brawl, or fallen sick, or hidden himself away, he did not know.  Hassan shrugged his shoulders, and Rosamund was glad enough to be rid of him, but in her heart she wondered for what evil purpose Nicholas had left the ship.