The Brethren by H. Rider Haggard (page 4)

done so.”

“Who remembered the swords of Godwin and Wulf,” broke in Rosamund scornfully, “and preferred that braver men should face them.”

“Lady,” answered Lozelle, colouring, “hitherto none have accused me of a lack of courage. Of your courtesy, listen, I pray you. I did wrong to enter on this business; but lady, it was love for you that drove me to it, for the thought of this long voyage in your company was a bait I could not withstand.”

“Paynim gold was the bait you could not withstand–that is what you mean. Be brief, I pray you. I weary.

“Lady, you are harsh and misjudge me, as I will show,” and he looked about him cautiously. “Within a week from now, if all goes well, we cast anchor at Limazol in Cyprus, to take in food and water before we run to a secret port near Antioch, whence you are to be taken overland to Damascus, avoiding all cities of the Franks. Now, the Emperor Isaac of Cyprus is my friend, and over him Saladin has no power. Once in his court, you would be safe until such time as you found opportunity to return to England. This, then, is my plan–that you should escape from the ship at night as I can arrange.”

“And what is your payment,” she asked, “who are a merchant knight?”

“My payment, lady, is–yourself. In Cyprus we will be wed–oh! think before you answer. At Damascus many dangers await you; with me you will find safety and a Christian husband who loves you well–so well that for your sake he is willing to lose his ship and, what is more, to break faith with Saladin, whose arm is long.”

“Have done,” she said coldly. “Sooner will I trust myself to an honest Saracen than to you, Sir Hugh, whose spurs, if you met your desert, should be hacked from your heels by scullions. Yes, sooner would I take death for my lord than you, who for your own base ends devised the plot that brought my father to his murder and me to slavery. Have done, I say, and never dare again to speak of love to me,” and rising, she walked past him to her cabin.

But Lozelle looking after her muttered to himself, “Nay, fair lady, I have but begun; nor will I forget your bitter words, for which you shall pay the merchant knight in kisses.”

>From her cabin Rosamund sent a message to Hassan, saying that she would speak with him.

He came, still pale with illness, and asked her will, whereon she told him what had passed between Lozelle and herself, demanding his protection against this man.

Hassan’s eyes flashed.

“Yonder he stands,” he said, “alone. Will you come with me and speak to him?”

She bowed her head, and giving her his hand, he led her to the poop.

“Sir captain,” he began, addressing Lozelle, “the Princess here tells me a strange story–that you have dared to offer your love to her, by Allah! to her, a niece of Salah-ed-din.”

“What of it, Sir Saracen?” answered Lozelle, insolently. “Is not a Christian knight fit mate for the blood of an Eastern chief ? Had I offered her less than marriage, you might have spoken.”

“You!” answered Hassan, with rage in his low voice, “you, huckstering thief and renegade, who swear by Mahomet in Damascus and by your prophet Jesus in England–ay, deny it not, I have heard you, as I have heard that rogue, Nicholas, your servant. You, her fit mate? Why, were it not that you must guide this ship, and that my master bade me not to quarrel with you till your task was done, I would behead you now and cut from your throat the tongue that dared to speak such words,” and as he spoke he gripped the handle of his scimitar.

Lozelle quailed before his fierce eyes, for well he knew Hassan, and knew also that if it came to fighting his sailors were no match for the emir and his picked Saracens.

“When our duty is done you shall answer for those words,” he said, trying to look brave.

“By Allah! I hold you to the promise,” replied Hassan. “Before Salah-ed-din I will answer for them when and where you will, as you shall answer to him for your treachery.”

“Of what, then, am I accused?” asked Lozelle. “Of loving the lady Rosamund, as do all men–perhaps yourself, old and withered as you are, among them?”

“Ay, and for that crime I will repay you, old and withered as I am, Sir Renegade. But with Salah-ed-din you have another score to settle–that by promising her escape you tried to seduce her from this ship, where you were sworn to guard her, saying that you would find her refuge among the Greeks of Cyprus.”

“Were this true,” replied Lozelle, “the Sultan might have cause of complaint against me. But it is not true. Hearken, since speak I must. The lady Rosamund prayed me to do this deed, and I told her that for my honour’s sake it is not possible, although it was true that I loved her now as always, and would dare much for her. Then she said that if I did but save her from you Saracens, I should not go without my reward, since she would wed me. Again, although it cost me sore, I answered that it might not be, but when once I had brought my ship to land, I was her true knight, and being freed of my oath, would do my best to save her.”

“Princess, you hear,” said Hassan, turning to Rosamund. “What say you?”

“I say,” she answered coldly, “that this man lies to save himself. I say, moreover, that I answered to him, that sooner would I die than that he should lay a finger on me.”

“I hold also that he lies,” said Hassan. “Nay; unclasp that dagger if you would live to see another sun. Here, I will not fight with you, but Salah-ed-din shall learn all this case when we reach his court, and judge between the word of the princess of Baalbec and of his hired servant, the false Frank and pirate, Sir Hugh Lozelle.”

“Let him learn it–when we reach his court,” answered Lozelle, with meaning; then added, “Have you aught else to say to me, prince Hassan? Because if not, I must be attending to the business of my ship, which you suppose that I was about to abandon to win a lady’s smile.”

“Only this, that the ship is the Sultan’s and not yours, for he bought it from you, and that henceforth this lady will be guarded day and night, and doubly guarded when we come to the shores of Cyprus, where it seems that you have friends. Understand and remember.”

“I understand, and certainly I will remember,” replied Lozelle, and so they parted.

“I think,” said Rosamund, when he had gone, “that we shall be fortunate if we land safe in Syria.”

“That was in my mind, also, lady. I think, too, that I have forgot my wisdom, but my heart rose against this man, and being still weak from sickness, I lost my judgment and spoke what was in my heart, who would have done better to wait. Now, perhaps, it will be best to kill him, if it were not that he alone has the skill to navigate the ship, which is a trade that he has followed from his youth. Nay, let it go as Allah wills. He is just, and will bring the matter to judgment in due time.”

“Yes, but to what judgment?” asked Rosamund.

“I hope to that of the sword,” answered Hassan, as he bowed and left her.

>From that time forward armed men watched all the night through before Rosamund’s cabin, and when she walked the deck armed men walked after her. Nor was she troubled by Lozelle, who sought to speak with her no more, or to Hassan either. Only with the man Nicholas he spoke much.

At length upon one golden evening–for Lozelle was a skilful pilot, one of the best, indeed, who sailed those seas–they came to the shores of Cyprus, and cast anchor. Before them, stretched along the beach, lay the white town of Limazol, with palm trees standing up amidst its gardens, while beyond the fertile plain rose the mighty mountain range of Trooidos. Sick and weary of the endless ocean, Rosamund gazed with rapture at this green and beauteous shore, the home of so much history, and sighed to think that on it she might set no foot. Lozelle saw her look and heard her sigh, and as he climbed into the boat which had come out to row him into the harbour, mocked her, saying:

“Will you not change your mind, lady, and come with me to visit my friend, the Emperor Isaac? I swear that his court is gay, not packed full of sour Saracens or pilgrims thinking of their souls. In Cyprus they only make pilgrimages to Paphos yonder, where Venus was born from out the foam, and has reigned since the beginning of the world–ay, and will reign until its end.”

Rosamund made no answer, and Lozelle, descending into the boat, was rowed shorewards through the breakers by the dark-skinned, Cyprian oarsmen, who wore flowers in their hair and sang as they laboured at the oars.

For ten whole days they rolled off Limazol, although the weather was fair and the wind blew straight for Syria. When Rosamund asked why they bided there so long, Hassan stamped his foot and said it was because the Emperor refused to supply them with more food or water than was sufficient for their daily need, unless he, Hassan, would land and travel to an inland town called Nicosia, where his court lay, and there do homage to him. This, scenting a trap, he feared to do, nor could they put out to sea without provisions.

“Cannot Sir Hugh Lozelle see to it?” asked Rosamund.

“Doubtless, if he will,” answered Hassan, grinding his teeth; “but he swears that he is powerless.”

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.

When the galley was one day out from Cyprus steering for the coast of Syria, they fell into a calm such as is common in those seas in summer. This calm lasted eight whole days, during which they made but little progress. At length, when all were weary of staring at the oil-like sea, a wind sprang up that grew gradually to a gale blowing towards Syria, and before it they fled along swiftly. Worse and stronger grew that gale, till on the evening of the second day, when they seemed in no little danger of being pooped, they saw a great mountain far away, at the sight of which Lozelle thanked God aloud.

“Are those the mountains near Antioch?” asked Hassan.

“Nay,” he answered, “they are more than fifty miles south of them, between Ladikiya and Jebela. There, by the mercy of Heaven, is a good haven, for I have visited it, where we can lie till this storm is past.”

“But we are steering for Darbesak, not for a haven near Jebela, which is a Frankish port,” answered Hassan, angrily.

“Then put the ship about and steer there yourself,” said Lozelle, “and I promise you this, that within two hours every one of you will be dead at the bottom of the sea.”

Hassan considered. It was true, for then the waves would strike them broadside on, and they must fill and sink.

“On your head be it,” he answered shortly.

The dark fell, and by the light of the great lantern at their prow they saw the white seas hiss past as they drove shorewards beneath bare masts. For they dared hoist no sail.

All that night they pitched and rolled, till the stoutest of them fell sick, praying God and Allah that they might have light by which to enter the harbour. At length they saw the top of the loftiest mountain grow luminous with the coming dawn, although the land itself was still lost in shadow, and saw also that it seemed to be towering almost over them.

“Take courage,” cried Lozelle, “I think that we are saved,” and he hoisted a second lantern at his masthead–why, they did not know.

After this the sea began to fall, only to grow rough again for a while as they crossed some bar, to find themselves in calm water, and on either side of them what appeared in the dim, uncertain light to be the bush-clad banks of a river. For a while they ran on, till Lozelle called in a loud voice to the sailors to let the anchor go, and sent a messenger to say that all might rest now, as they were safe. So they laid them down and tried to sleep.

But Rosamund could not sleep. Presently she rose, and throwing on her cloak went to the door of the cabin and looked at the beauty of the mountains, rosy with the new-born light, and at the misty surface of the harbour. It was a lonely place–at least, she could see no town or house, although they were lying not fifty yards from the tree-hidden shore. As she stood thus, she heard the sound of boats being rowed through the mist, and perceived three or four of these approaching the ship in silence, perceived also that Lozelle, who stood alone upon the deck, was watching their approach. Now the first boat made fast and a man in the prow rose up and began to speak to Lozelle in a low voice. As he did so the hood fell back from his head, and Rosamund saw the face. It was that of the spy Nicholas! For a moment she stood amazed, for they had left this man in Cyprus; then understanding came to her and she cried aloud:

“Treachery! Prince Hassan, there is treachery.”

As the words left her lips fierce, wild-looking men began to scramble aboard at the low waist of the galley, to which boat after boat made fast. The Saracens also tumbled from the benches where they slept and ran aft

to the deck where Rosamund was, all except one of them.

who was cut off in the prow of the ship. Prince Hassan appeared, too, scimitar in hand, clad in his jewelled turban and coat of mail, but without his cloak, shouting orders as he came, while the hired crew of the ship flung themselves upon their knees and begged for mercy. To him Rosamund cried out that they were betrayed and by Nicholas, whom she had seen. Then a great man, wearing a white burnous and holding a naked sword in his hand, stepped forward and said in Arabic:

“Yield you now, for you are outnumbered and your captain is captured,” and he pointed to Lozelle, who was being held by two men while his arms were bound behind him.

“In whose name do you bid me yield?” asked the prince, glaring about him like a lion in a trap.

“In the dread name of Sinan, in the name of the lord Al-je-bal, O servant of Salah-ed-din.”

At these words a groan of fear went up even from the brave Saracens, for now they learned that they had to do with the terrible chief of the Assassins.

“Is there then war between the Sultan and Sinan?” asked Hassan.

“Ay, there is always war. Moreover, you have one with you,” and he pointed to Rosamund, “who is dear to Salah-ed-din, whom, therefore, my master desires as a hostage.”

“How knew you that?” said Hassan, to gain time while his men formed up.

“How does the lord Sinan know all things?” was the answer; “Come, yield, and perhaps he will show you mercy.”

“Through spies,” hissed Hassan, “such spies as Nicholas, who has come from Cyprus before us, and that Frankish dog who is called a knight,” and he pointed to Lozelle. “Nay, we yield not, and here, Assassins, you have to do not with poisons and the knife, but with bare swords and brave men. Ay, and I warn you–and your lord– that Salah-ed-din will take vengeance for this deed.”

“Let him try it if he wishes to die, who hitherto has been spared,” answered the tall man quietly. Then he said to his followers, “Cut them down, all save the women”–for the Frenchwoman, Marie, was now clinging to the arm of Rosamund–“and emir Hassan, whom I am commanded to bring living to Masyaf.”

“Back to your cabin, lady,” said Hassan, “and remember that whate’er befalls, we have done our best to save you. Ay, and tell it to my lord, that my honour may be clean in his eyes. Now, soldiers of Salah-ed-din, fight and die as he has taught you how. The gates of Paradise stand open, and no coward will enter there.”

They answered with a fierce, guttural cry. Then, as Rosamund fled to the cabin, the fray began, a hideous fray. On came the Assassins with sword and dagger, striving to storm the deck. Again and again they were beaten back, till the waist seemed full of their corpses, as man by man they fell beneath the curved scimitars, and again and again they charged these men who, when their master ordered, knew neither fear nor pity. But more boatloads came from the shore, and the Saracens were but few, worn also with storm and sickness, so at last Rosamund, peeping beneath her hand, saw that the poop was gained.

Here and there a man fought on until he fell beneath the cruel knives in the midst of the circle of the dead, among them the warrior-prince Hassan. Watching him with fascinated eyes as he strove alone against a host, Rosamund was put in mind of another scene, when her father, also alone, had striven thus against that emir and his soldiers, and even then she bethought her of the justice of God.

See! his foot slipped on the blood-stained deck. He was down, and ere he could rise again they had thrown cloaks over him, these fierce, silent men, who even with their lives at stake, remembered the command of their captain, to take him living. So living they took him, with not a wound upon his skin, who when he struck them down, had never struck back at him lest the command of Sinan should be broken.

Rosamund noted it, and remembering that his command was also that she should be brought to him unharmed, knew that she had no violence to fear at the hands of these cruel murderers. From this thought, and because Hassan still lived, she took such comfort as she might.

“It is finished,” said the tall man, in his cold voice. “Cast these dogs into the sea who have dared to disobey the command of Al-je-bal.”

So they took them up, dead and living together, and threw them into the water, where they sank, nor did one of the wounded Saracens pray them for mercy. Then they served their own dead likewise, but those that were only wounded they took ashore. This done, the tall man advanced to the cabin and said:

“Lady, come, we are ready to start upon our journey.”

Having no choice, Rosamund obeyed him, remembering as she went how from a scene of battle and bloodshed she had been brought aboard that ship to be carried she knew not whither, which now she left in a scene of battle and bloodshed to be carried she knew not whither.

“Oh!” she cried aloud, pointing to the corpses they hurled into the deep, “ill has it gone with these who stole me, and ill may it go with you also, servant of Al-je-bal.”

But the tall man answered nothing, as followed by the weeping Marie and the prince Hassan, he led her to the boat.

Soon they reached the shore, and here they tore Marie from her, nor did Rosamund ever learn what became of her, or whether or no this poor woman found her husband whom she had dared so much to seek.

Chapter Eleven: The City of Al-Je-Bal

“I pray you have done,” said Godwin, “it is but a scratch from the beast’s claws. I am ashamed that you should put your hair to such vile uses. Give me a little water.”

He asked it of Wulf, but Masouda rose without a word and fetched the water, in which she mingled wine. Godwin drank of it and his faintness left him, so that he was able to stand up and move his arms and legs.

“Why,” he said, “it is nothing; I was only shaken. That lioness did not hurt me at all.”

“But you hurt the lioness,” said Wulf, with a laugh. “By St. Chad a good thrust!” and he pointed to the long sword driven up to the hilt in the brute’s breast. “Why, I swear I could not have made a better myself.”

“I think it was the lion that thrust,” answered Godwin. “I only held the sword straight. Drag it out, brother, I am still too weak.”

So Wulf set his foot upon the breast of the lion and tugged and tugged until at length he loosened the sword, saying as he strained at it:

“Oh! what an Essex hog am I, who slept through it all, never waking until Masouda seized me by the hair, and I opened my eyes to see you upon the ground with this yellow beast crouched on the top of you like a hen on a nest egg. I thought that it was alive and smote it with my sword, which, had I been fully awake, I doubt if I should have found the courage to do. Look,” and he pushed the lioness’s head with his foot, whereon it twisted round in such a fashion that they perceived for the first time that it only hung to the shoulders by a thread of skin.

“I am glad you did not strike a little harder,” said Godwin, “or I should now be in two pieces and drowned m my own blood, instead of in that of this dead brute,” and he looked ruefully at his burnous and hauberk, that were soaked with gore.

“Yes,” said Wulf, “I never thought of that. Who would, in such a hurry?”

“Lady Masouda,” asked Godwin, “when last I saw you you were hanging from those jaws. Say, are you hurt?”

“Nay,” she answered, “for I wear mail like you, and the teeth glanced on it so that she held me by the cloak only. Come, let us skin the beast, and take its pelt as a present to the lord Al-je-bal.”

“Good,” said Godwin, “and I give you the claws for a necklace.”

“Be sure that I will wear them,” she answered, and helped Wulf to flay the lioness while he sat by resting. When it was done Wulf went to the little cave and walked into it, to come out again with a bound.

“Why!” he said, “there are more of them in there. I saw their eyes and heard them snarl. Now, give me a burning branch and I will show you, brother, that you are not the only one who can fight a lion.”

“Let be, you foolish man,” broke in Masouda. “Doubtless those are her cubs, and if you kill them, her mate will follow us for miles; but if they are left safe he will stay to feed them. Come, let us begone from this place as swiftly as we can.”

So having shown them the skin of the lion, that they might know it was but a dead thing, at the sight of which they snorted and trembled, they packed it upon one of the mules and rode off slowly into a valley some five miles away, where was water but no trees. Here, since Godwin needed rest, they stopped all that day and the night which followed, seeing no more of lions, though they watched for them sharply enough. The next morning, having slept well, he was himself again, and they started forward through a broken country towards a deep cleft, on either side of which stood a tall mountain.

“This is Al-je-bal’s gateway,” said Masouda, “and tonight we should sleep in the gate, whence one day’s ride brings us to his city.”

So on they rode till at length, perched upon the sides of the cleft, they saw a castle, a great building, with high walls, to which they came at sunset. It seemed that they were expected in this place, for men hastened to meet them, who greeted Masouda and eyed the brethren curiously, especially after they had heard of the adventure with the lion. These took them, not into the castle, but to a kind of hostelry at its back, where they were furnished with food and slept the night.

Next morning they went on again to a hilly country with beautiful and fertile valleys. Through this they rode for two hours, passing on their way several villages, where sombre-eyed people were labouring in the fields. From each village, as they drew near to it, horsemen would gallop out and challenge them, whereon Masouda rode forward and spoke with the leader alone. Then he would touch his forehead with his hand and bow his head and they rode on unmolested.

“See,” she said, when they had thus been stopped for the fourth time, “what chance you had of winning through to Masyaf unguarded. Why, I tell you, brethren, that you would have been dead before ever you passed the gates of the first castle.”

Now they rode up a long slope, and at its crest paused to look upon a marvellous scene. Below them stretched a vast plain, full of villages, cornfields, olive-groves, and vineyards. In the centre of this plain, some fifteen miles away, rose a great mountain, which seemed to be walled all about. Within the wall was a city of which the white, flat-roofed houses climbed the slopes of the mountain, and on its crest a level space of land covered with trees and a great, many-towered castle surrounded by more houses.

“Behold the home of Al-je-bal, Lord of the Mountain,” said Masouda, “where we must sleep to-night. Now, brethren, listen to me. Few strangers who enter that castle come thence living. There is still time; I can pass you back as I passed you hither. Will you go on?”

“We will go on,” they answered with one breath.

“Why? What have you to gain? You seek a certain maiden. Why seek her here whom you say has been taken to Salah-ed-din? Because the Al-je-bal in bygone days swore to befriend one of your blood. But that Al-je-bal is dead, and another of his line rules who took no such oath. How do you know that he will befriend you–how that he will not enslave or kill you? I have power in this land, why or how does not matter, and I can protect you against all that dwell in it–as I swear I will, for did not one of you save my life?” and she glanced at Godwin, “except my lord Sinan, against whom I have no power, for I am his slave.”

“He is the enemy of Saladin, and may help us for his hate’s sake.”

“Yes, he is the enemy of Salah-ed-din now more than ever. He may help you or he may not. Also,” she added with meaning, “you may not wish the help he offers Oh! ” and there was a note of entreaty in her voice, “think, think! For the last time, I pray you think!”

“We have thought,” answered Godwin solemnly; “and, whatever chances, we will obey the command of the dead.”

She heard and bowed her head in assent, then said, looking up again:

“So be it. You are not easily turned from your purpose, and I like that spirit well. But hear my counsel. While you are in this city speak no Arabic and pretend to understand none. Also drink nothing but water, which is good here, for the lord Sinan sets strange wines before his guests, that, if they pass the lips, produce visions and a kind of waking madness in which you might do deeds whereof you were afterwards ashamed. Or you might swear oaths that would sit heavy on your souls, and yet could not be broken except at the cost of life.”

“Fear not,” answered Wulf. “Water shall be our drink, who have had enough of drugged wines,” for he remembered the Christmas feast in the Hall at Steeple.

“You, Sir Godwin,” went on Masouda, “have about your neck a certain ring which you were mad enough to show to me, a stranger–a ring with writing on it which none can read save the great men that in this land are called the dais. Well, as it chances, the secret is safe with me; but be wise; say nothing of that ring and let no eye.see it.”

“Why not?” asked Godwin. “It is the token of our dead uncle to the Al-je-bal.”

She looked round her cautiously and replied:

“Because it is, or was once, the great Signet, and a day may come when it will save your lives. Doubtless when the lord who is dead thought it gone forever he caused another to be fashioned, so like that I who have had both in my hand could not tell the two apart. To him who holds that ring all gates are open; but to let it be known that you have its double means death. Do you understand?”

They nodded, and Masouda continued:

“Lastly–though you may think that this seems much to ask–trust me always, even if I seem to play you false, who for your sakes,” and she sighed, “have broken oaths and spoken words for which the punishment is to die by torment. Nay, thank me not, for I do only what I must who am a slave–a slave.”

“A slave to whom?” asked Godwin, staring at her.

“To the Lord of all the Mountains,” she answered, with a smile that was sweet yet very sad; and without another word spurred on her horse.

“What does she mean,” asked Godwin of Wulf, when she was out of hearing, “seeing that if she speaks truth, for our sakes, in warning us against him, Masouda is breaking her fealty to this lord?”

“I do not know, brother, and I do not seek to know. All her talk may be a part of a plot to blind us, or it may not. Let well alone and trust in fortune, say I.”

“A good counsel,” answered Godwin, and they rode forward in silence.

They crossed the plain, and towards evening came to the wall of the outer city, halting in front of its great gateway. Here, as at the first castle, a band of solemn-looking mounted men came out to meet them, and, having spoken a few words with Masouda, led them over the drawbridge that spanned the first rock-cut moat, and through triple gates of iron into the city. Then they passed up a street very steep and narrow, from the roofs and windows of the houses on either side of which hundreds of people–many of whom seemed to be engaged at their evening prayer–watched them go by. At the head of this street they reached another fortified gateway, on the turrets of which, so motionless that at first they took them to be statues cut in stone, stood guards wrapped in long white robes. After parley, this also was opened to them, and again they rode through triple doors.

Then they saw all the wonder of that place, for between the outer city where they stood and the castle, with its inner town which was built around and beneath it yawned a vast gulf over ninety feet in depth. Across this gulf, built of blocks of stone, quite unrailed, and not more than three paces wide, ran a causeway some two hundred yards in length, which causeway was supported upon arches reared up at intervals from the bottom of the gulf.

“Ride on and have no fear,” said Masouda. “Your horses are trained to heights, and the mules and mine will follow.”

So Godwin, showing nothing in his face of the doubt that he felt in his heart, patted Flame upon the neck, and, after hanging back a little, the horse started lifting its hoofs high and glancing from side to side at the terrible gulf beneath. Where Flame went Smoke knew that it could go, and came on bravely, but snorting a little, while the mules, that did not fear heights so long as the ground was firm beneath their feet, followed. Only Masouda’s horse was terrified, backed, and strove to wheel round, till she drove the spur into it, when of a sudden it started and came over at a gallop.

At length they were across, and, passing under another gateway which had broad terraces on either side of it, rode up the long street beyond and entered a great courtyard, around which stood the castle, a vast and frowning fortress. Here a white-robed officer came forward, greeting them with a low bow, and with him servants who assisted them to dismount. These men took the horses to a range of stables on one side of the courtyard, whither the brethren followed to see their beasts groomed and fed. Then the officer, who had stood patiently by the while, conducted them through doorways and down passages to the guest chambers, large, stone-roofed rooms, where they found their baggage ready for them. Here Masouda said that she would see them again on the following morning, and departed in company with the officer.

Wulf looked round the great vaulted chamber, which. now that the dark had fallen, was lit by flickering lamps set in iron brackets upon the wall, and said:

“Well, for my part, I had rather pass the night in a desert among the lions than in this dismal place.”

Scarcely were the words out of his lips when curtains swung aside and beautiful women entered, clad in gauzy veils and bearing dishes of food. These they placed upon the ground before them, inviting them to eat with nods and smiles, while others brought basins of scented water, which they poured over their hands. Then they sat down and ate the food that was strange to them, but very pleasant to the taste; and while they ate, women whom they could not see sang sweet songs, and played upon harps and lutes. Wine was offered to them also; but of this, remembering Masouda’s words, they would not drink, asking by signs for water, which was brought after a little pause.

When their meal was done, the beautiful women bore away the dishes, and black slaves appeared. These men led them to baths such as they had never seen, where they washed first in hot water, then in cold. Afterwards they were rubbed with spicy-smelling oils, and having been wrapped in white robes, conducted back to their chamber, where they found beds spread for them. On these, being very weary, they lay down, when the strange, sweet music broke out afresh, and to the sound of it they fell asleep.

When they awoke it was to see the light streaming through the high, latticed windows.

“Did you sleep well, Godwin?” asked Wulf.

“Well enough,” answered his brother, “only I dreamed that throughout the night people came and looked at me.”

“I dreamed that also,” said Wulf; “moreover, I think that it was not all a dream, since there is a coverlet on my bed which was not there when I went to sleep.”

Godwin looked at his own, where also was another coverlet added, doubtless as the night grew colder in that high place.

“I have heard of enchanted castles,” he said; “now I think that we have found one.”

“Ay,” replied Wulf, “and it is well enough while it lasts.”

They rose and dressed themselves, putting on clean garments and their best cloaks, that they had brought with them on the mules, after which the veiled women entered the room with breakfast, and they ate. When this was finished, having nothing else to do, they made signs to one of the women that they wished for cloths wherewith to clean their armour, for, as they had been bidden, they pretended to understand no word of Arabic. She nodded, and presently returned with a companion carrying leathers and paste in a jar. Nor did they leave them, but, sitting upon the ground, whether the brethren willed it or no, took the shirts of mail and rubbed them till they shone like silver, while Godwin and Wulf polished their helms, spurs, and bucklers, cleansing their swords and daggers also, and sharpening them with a stone which they carried for that purpose.

Now as these women worked, they began to talk to each other in a low voice, and some of their talk, though not all, the brethren understood.

“A handsome pair truly,” said the first. “We should be fortunate if we had such men for husbands, although they are Franks and infidels.”

“Ay,” answered the other; “and from their likeness they must be twins. Now which of them would you choose?”

Then for a long while they discussed them, comparing them feature by feature and limb by limb, until the brethren felt their faces grow red beneath the sunburn and scrubbed furiously at their armour to show a reason for it. At length one of the women said:

“It was cruel of the lady Masouda to bring these birds into the Master’s net. She might have warned them.”

“Masouda was ever cruel,” answered the other, “who hates all men, which is unnatural. Yet I think if she loved a man she would love him well, and perhaps that might be worse for him than her hate.”

“Are these knights spies?” asked the first.

“I suppose so,” was the answer, “silly fellows who think that they can spy upon a nation of spies. They would have done better to keep to fighting, at which, doubtless, they are good enough. What will happen to them?”

“What always happens, I suppose–a pleasant time at first; then, if they can be put to no other use, a choice between the faith and the cup. Or, perhaps, as they seem men of rank, they may be imprisoned in the dungeon tower and held to ransom. Yes, yes; it was cruel of Masouda to trick them so, who may be but travellers after all, desiring to see our city.”

Just then the curtain was drawn, and through it entered Masouda herself. She was dressed in a white robe that had a dagger worked in red over the left breast, and her long black hair fell upon her shoulders, although it was half hid by the veil, open in front, which hung from her head. Never had they seen her look so beautiful as she seemed thus.

“Greetings, brothers Peter and John. Is this fit work for pilgrims?” she said in French, pointing to the long swords which they were sharpening.

“Ay,” answered Wulf, as they rose and bowed to her, “for pilgrims to this–holy city.”

The women who were cleaning the mail bowed also, for it seemed that here Masouda was a person of importance. She took the hauberks from their hands.

“III cleansed,” she said sharply. “I think that you girls talk better than you work. Nay, they must serve. Help these lords to don them. Fools, that is the shirt of the grey-eyed knight. Give it me; I will be his squire,” and she snatched the hauberk from their hands, whereat, when her back was turned, they glanced at one another.

“Now,” she said, when they were fully armed and had donned their mantles, “you brethren look as pilgrims should. Listen, I have a message for you. The Master” –and she bowed her head, as did the women, guessing of whom she spoke–“will receive you in an hour’s time, till when, if it please you, we can walk in the gardens, which are worth your seeing.”

So they went out with her, and as they passed towards the curtain she whispered:

“For your lives’ sake, remember all that I have told you–above everything, about the wine and the ring, for if you dream the drink-dream you will be searched. Speak no word to me save of common matters.”

In the passage beyond the curtain white-robed guards were standing, armed with spears, who turned and followed them without a word. First they went to the stables to visit Flame and Smoke, which whinnied as they drew near. These they found well-fed and tended–indeed, a company of grooms were gathered round them, discussing their points and beauty, who saluted as the owners of such steeds approached. Leaving the stable, they passed through an archway into the famous gardens, which were said to be the most beautiful in all the East. Beautiful they were indeed, planted with trees, shrubs, and flowers such as are seldom seen, while between fern-clad rocks flowed rills which fell over deep cliffs in waterfalls of foam. In places the shade of cedars lay so dense that the brightness of day was changed to twilight, but in others the ground was open and carpeted with flowers which filled the air with perfume. Everywhere grew roses, myrtles, and trees laden with rich fruits, while from all sides came the sound of cooing doves and the voices of many bright-winged birds which flashed from palm to palm.

On they walked, down the sand-strewn paths for a mile or more, accompanied by Masouda and the guard. At length, passing through a brake of whispering, reed-like plants, of a sudden they came to a low wall, and saw, yawning black and wide at their very feet, that vast cleft which they had crossed before they entered the castle.

“It encircles the inner city, the fortress, and its grounds,” said Masouda; “and who lives to-day that could throw a bridge across it? Now come back.”

So, following the gulf round, they returned to the castle by another path, and were ushered into an ante-room, where stood a watch of twelve men. Here Masouda left them in the midst of the men, who stared at them with stony eyes. Presently she returned, and beckoned to them to follow her. Walking down a long passage they came to curtains, in front of which were two sentries, who drew these curtains as they approached. Then, side by side, they entered a great hall, long as Stangate Abbey church, and passed through a number of people, all crouched upon the ground. Beyond these the hall narrowed as a chancel does.

Here sat and stood more people, fierce-eyed, turbaned men, who wore great knives in their girdles. These, as they learned afterwards, were called the fedai, the sworn assassins, who lived but to do the command of their lord the great Assassin. At the end of this chancel were more curtains, beyond which was a guarded door. It opened, and on its further side they found themselves in full sunlight on an unwalled terrace, surrounded by the mighty gulf into which it was built out. On the right and left edges of this terrace sat old and bearded men, twelve in number, their heads bowed humbly and their eyes fixed upon the ground. These were the dais or councillors.

At the head of the terrace, under an open and beautifully carved pavilion of wood, stood two gigantic soldiers, having the red dagger blazoned on their white robes. Between them was a black cushion, and on the cushion a black heap. At first, staring out of the bright sunlight at this heap in the shadow, the brethren wondered what it might be. Then they caught sight of the glitter of eyes, and knew that the heap was a man who wore a black turban on his head and a black, bell-shaped robe clasped at the breast with a red jewel. The weight of the man had sunk him down deep into the soft cushion, so that there was nothing of him to be seen save the folds of the bell-shaped cloak, the red jewel, and the head. He looked like a coiled-up snake; the dark and glittering eyes also were those of a snake. Of his features, in the deep shade of the canopy and of the wide black turban, they could see nothing.

The aspect of this figure was so terrible and inhuman that the brethren trembled at the sight of him. They were men and he was a man, but between that huddled, beady-eyed heap and those two tall Western warriors, clad in their gleaming mail and coloured cloaks, helm on brow, buckler on arm, and long sword at side, the contrast was that of death and life.

Chapter Twelve: The Lord of Death

Masouda ran forward and prostrated herself at full length, but Godwin and Wulf stared at the heap, and the heap stared at them. Then, at some motion of his chin, Masouda arose and said:

“Strangers, you stand in the presence of the Master, Sinan, Lord of Death. Kneel, and do homage to the Master.”

But the brethren stiffened their backs and would not kneel. They lifted their hands to their brows in salute, but no more.

Then from between the black turban and the black cloak came a hollow voice, speaking in Arabic, and saying:

“Are these the men who brought me the lion’s skin? Well, what seek ye, Franks?” They stood silent.

“Dread lord,” said Masouda, “these knights are but now come from England over sea, and do not understand our tongue.”

“Set out their story and their request,” said Al-je-bal, “that we may judge of them.”

“Dread lord,” answered Masouda, “as I sent you word, they say that they are the kin of a certain knight who in battle saved the life of him who ruled before you, but is now an inhabitant of Paradise.”

“I have heard that there was such a knight,” said the voice. “He was named D’Arcy, and he bore the same cognizance on his shield–the sign of a skull.”

” Lord, these brethren are also named D’Arcy, and now they come to ask your help against Salah-ed-din.”

At that name the heap stirred as a snake stirs when it hears danger, and the head erected itself a little beneath the great turban.

“What help, and why?” asked the voice.

“Lord, Salah-ed-din has stolen a woman of their house who is his niece, and these knights, her brothers, ask you to aid them to recover her.”

The beady eyes instantly became interested.

“Report has been made to me of that story,” said the voice; “but what sign do these Franks show? He who went before me gave a ring, and with it certain rights in this land, to the knight D’Arcy who befriended him in danger. Where is that sacred ring, with which he parted in his foolishness?”

Masouda translated, and seeing the warning in her eyes and remembering her words, the brethren shook their heads, while Wulf answered:

“Our uncle, the knight Sir Andrew, was cut down by the soldiers of Salah-ed-din, and as he died bade us seek you out. What time had he to tell us of any ring?”

The head sank upon the breast.

“I hoped,” said Sinan to Masouda, “that they had the ring, and it was for this reason, woman, that I allowed you to lead these knights hither, after you had reported of them and their quest to me from Beirut. It is not well that there should be two holy Signets in the world, and he who went before me, when he lay dying, charged me to recover his if that were possible. Let them go back to their own land and return to me with the ancient ring, and I will help them.”

Masouda translated the last sentence only, and again the brethren shook their heads. This time it was Godwin who spoke.

“Our land is far away, O lord, and where shall we find this long-lost ring? Let not our journey be in vain. O mighty One, give us justice against Salah-ed-din.”

“All my years have I sought justice on Salah-ed-din,” answered Sinan, “and yet he prevails against me. Now I make you an offer. Go, Franks, and bring me his head, or at least put him to death as I shall show you how, and we will talk again.”

When they heard this saying Wulf said to Godwin, in English:

“I think that we had best go; I do not like this company.” But Godwin made no answer.

As they stood silent thus, not knowing what to say, a man entered through the door, and, throwing himself on his hands and knees, crawled towards the cushion through the double line of councillors or dais.

“Your report?” said Sinan in Arabic.

“Lord,” answered the man, “I acquaint you that your will has been done in the matter of the vessel.” Then he went on speaking in a low voice, so rapidly that the brethren could scarcely hear and much less understand him.

Sinan listened, then said:

“Let the fedai enter and make his own report, bringing with him his prisoners.”

Now one of the dais, he who sat nearest the canopy, rose and pointing towards the brethren, said.

“Touching these Franks, what is your will?”

The beady eyes, which seemed to search out their souls, fixed themselves upon them and for a long while Sinan considered. They trembled, knowing that he was passing some judgment concerning them in his heart, and that on his next words much might hang–even their lives.

“Let them stay here,” he said at length. “I may have questions to ask them.”

For a time there was silence. Sinan, Lord of Death, seemed to be lost in thought under the black shade of his canopy; the double line of dais stared at nothingness across the passage way; the giant guards stood still as statues; Masouda watched the brethren from beneath her long eye-lashes, while the brethren watched the sharp edge of the shadow of the canopy on the marble floor They strove to seem unconcerned, but their hearts were beating fast within them who felt that great things were about to happen, though what these might be they knew not.

So intense was the silence, so dreadful seemed that inhuman, snake-like man, so strange his aged, passionless councillors, and the place of council surrounded by a dizzy gulf, that fear took hold of them like the fear of an evil dream. Godwin wondered if Sinan could see the ring upon his breast, and what would happen to him if he did see it; while Wulf longed to shout aloud, to do anything that would break this deathly, sunlit quiet. To them those minutes seemed like hours; indeed, for aught they knew, they might have been hours.

At length there was a stir behind the brethren, and at a word from Masouda they separated, falling apart a pace or two, and stood opposite each other and sideways to Sinan. Standing thus, they saw the curtains drawn. Through them came four men, carrying a stretcher covered with a cloth, beneath which they could see the outline of a form, that lay there stirless. The four men brought the stretcher to the front of the canopy, set it on the ground, prostrated themselves, and retired, walking backwards down the length of the terrace.

Again there was silence, while the brethren wondered whose corpse it was that lay beneath the cloth, for a corpse it must surely be; though neither the Lord of the Mountain nor his dais and guards seemed to concern themselves in the matter. Again the curtains parted, and a procession advanced up the terrace. First came a great man clad in a white robe blazoned with the bleeding dagger, after whom walked a tall woman shrouded in a long veil, who was followed by a thick-set knight clad in Frankish armour and wearing a cape of which the cowl covered his head as though to keep the rays of the sun from beating on his helm. Lastly walked four guards. Up the long place they marched, through the double line of dais, while with a strange stirring in their breasts the brethren watched the shape and movements of the veiled woman who stepped forward rapidly, not seeing them, for she turned her head neither to the right nor left. The leader of the little band reached the space before the canopy, and, prostrating himself by the side of the stretcher, lay still. She who walked behind him stopped also, and, seeing the black heap upon the cushion, shuddered.

“Woman, unveil,” commanded the voice of Sinan.

She hesitated, then swiftly undid some fastening, so that her drapery fell from her head. The brethren stared, rubbed their eyes, and stared again.

Before them stood Rosamund!

Yes, it was Rosamund, worn with sickness, terrors, and travel, Rosamund herself beyond all doubt. At the sight of her pale, queenly beauty the heap on the cushion stirred beneath his black cloak, and the beady eyes were filled with an evil, eager light. Even the dais seemed to wake from their contemplation, and Masouda bit her red lip, turned pale beneath her olive skin, and watched with devouring eyes, waiting to read this woman’s heart.

“Rosamund! ” cried the brethren with one voice.

She heard. As they sprang towards her she glanced wildly from face to face, then with a low cry flung an arm about the neck of each and would have fallen in the ecstacy of her joy had they not held her. Indeed, her knees touched the ground. As they stooped to lift her it flashed into Godwin’s mind that Masouda had told Sinan that they were her brethren. The thought was followed by another. If this were so, they might be left with her, whereas otherwise that black-robed devil–

“Listen,” he whispered in English; “we are not your cousins–we are your brothers, your half-brothers, and we know no Arabic.”

She heard and Wulf heard, but the watchers thought that they were but welcoming each other, for Wulf began to talk also, random words in French, such as “Greeting, sister!” “Well found, sister!” and kissed her on the forehead.

Rosamund opened her eyes, which had closed, and, gaining her feet, gave one hand to each of the brethren. Then the voice of Masouda was heard interpreting the words of Sinan.

“It seems, lady, that you know these knights.”

“I do–well. They are my brothers, from whom I was stolen when they were drugged and our father was killed.”

“How is that, lady, seeing that you are said to be the niece of Salah-ed-din? Are these knights, then, the nephews of Salah-ed-din?”

“Nay,” answered Rosamund, “they are my father’s sons, but of another wife.”

The answer appeared to satisfy Sinan, who fixed his eyes upon the pale beauty of Rosamund and asked no more questions. While he remained thus thinking, a noise arose at the end of the terrace, and the brethren, turning their heads, saw that the thick-set knight was striving to thrust his way through the guards who stood by the curtains and barred his path with the shafts of their spears.

Then it came into Godwin’s mind that just before Rosamund unveiled he had seen this knight suddenly turn and walk down the terrace.

The lord Sinan looked up at the sound and made a sign. Thereon two of the dais sprang to their feet and ran towards the curtain, where they spoke with the knight, who turned and came back with them, though slowly, as one who is unwilling. Now his hood had fallen from his head, and Godwin and Wulf stared at him as he advanced, for surely they knew those great shoulders, those round black eyes, those thick lips, and that heavy jowl.

“Lozelle! It is Lozelle!” said Godwin.

“Ay,” echoed Rosamund, “it is Lozelle, the double traitor, who betrayed me first to the soldiers of Saladin, and, because I would have none of his love, next to this lord Sinan.”

Wulf heard, and, as Lozelle drew near to them, sprang forward with an oath and struck him across the face with his mailed hand. Instantly guards thrust themselves between them, and Sinan asked through Masouda:

“Why do you dare to strike this Frank in my presence? “

“Because, lord,” answered Wulf, “he is a rogue who has brought all these troubles on our house. I challenge him to meet me in battle to the death.”

“And I also,” said Godwin.

“I am ready,” shouted Lozelle, stung to fury by the blow.

“Then, dog, why did you try to run away when you saw our faces?” asked Wulf.

Masouda held up her hand and began to interpret, addressing Lozelle, and speaking in the first person as the “mouth” of Sinan.

“I thank you for your service who have served me before. Your messenger came, a Frank whom I knew in old days. As you had arranged it should be, I sent one of my fedais with soldiers to kill the men of Salah-ed-din on the ship and capture this lady who is his niece, all of which it seems has been done. The bargain that your messenger made was that the lady should be given over to you–“

Here Godwin and Wulf ground their teeth and glared at him.

“But these knights say that you stole her, their kinswoman, from them, and one of them has struck you and challenged you to single combat, which challenge you have accepted. I sanction the combat gladly, who have long desired to see two knights of the Franks fight in tourney according to their custom. I will set the course, and you shall be given the best horse in my kingdom; this knight shall ride his own. These are the conditions–the course shall be on the bridge between the inner and outer gates of the castle city, and the fight, which must be to the death, shall take place on the night of the full moon–that is, three days from now. If you are victor, we will talk of the matter of the lady for whom you bargained as a wife.”

“My lord, my lord,” answered Lozelle, “who can lay a lance on that terrible place in moonlight? Is it thus that you keep faith with me?”

“I can and will!” cried Wulf. “Dog, I would fight you in the gates of hell, with my soul on the hazard.”

“Keep faith with yourself,” said Sinan, “who said that you accepted the challenge of this knight and made no conditions, and when you have proved upon his body that his quarrel is not just, then speak of my faith with you. Nay, no more words; when this fight is done we will speak again, and not before. Let him be led to the outer castle and there given of our best. Let my great black horse be brought to him that he may gallop it to and fro upon the bridge, or where he will within the circuit of the walls, by day or by night; but see that he has no speech with this lady whom he has betrayed into my power, or with these knights his foes, nor suffer him to come into my presence. I will not talk with a man who has been struck in the face until he has washed away the blow in blood.”

As Masouda finished translating, and before Lozelle could answer, the lord Sinan moved his head, whereon guards sprang forward and conducted Lozelle from the terrace.

“Farewell, Sir Thief,” cried Wulf after him, “till we meet again upon the narrow bridge and there settle our account. You have fought Godwin, perhaps you will have better luck with Wulf.”

Lozelle glared back at him, and, finding no answer, went on his way.

“Your report,” said Sinan, addressing the tall fedai who all this while had lain upon his face before him, still as the form that was stretched upon the bier. “There should have been another prisoner, the great emir Hassan. Also, where is the Frankish spy?”

The fedai rose and spoke.

“Lord,” he said, “I did your bidding. The knight who has gone steered the ship into the bay, as had been arranged. I attacked with the daylight. The soldiers of Salah-ed-din fought bravely, for the lady here saw us, and gave them time to gather, and we lost many men. We overcame and killed them all, except the prince Hassan, whom we took prisoner. I left some men to watch the ship. The crew we spared, as they were the servants of the Frank Lozelle, setting them loose upon the beach, together with a Frankish woman, who was the servant of the lady here, to find their way to the nearest city. This woman I would have killed, but the lady your captive begged for her life, saying she had come from the land of the Franks to seek her husband; so, having no orders, let her go. Yesterday morning we started for Masyaf, the prince Hassan riding in a litter together with that Frankish spy who was here a while ago, and told you of the coming of the ship. At night they slept in the same tent; I left the prince bound and set a guard, but in the morning when we looked we found him gone–how, I know not–and Iying in the tent the Frankish spy, dead, with a knife-wound through his heart. Behold!” and withdrawing the cloth from the stretcher he revealed the stiff form of the spy Nicholas, who lay there dead, a look of terror frozen on his face.

“At least this one has come to an end he deserved,” muttered Wulf to Godwin.

“So, having searched without avail, I came on here with the lady your prisoner and the Frank Lozelle. I have spoken.”

Now when he had heard this report, forgetting his calm, Sinan arose from the cushion and stepped forward two paces. There he halted, with fury in his glittering eyes, looking like a man clothed in a black bell. For a moment he stroked his beard, and the brethren noted that on the first finger of his right hand was a ring so like to that which hung about the neck of Godwin that none could have told them apart.

“Man,” Sinan said in a low voice, “what have you done? You have left the emir Hassan go, who is the most trusted friend and general of the Sultan of Damascus. By now he is there, or near it, and within six days we shall see the army of Salah-ed-din riding across the plain. Also you have not killed the crew and the Frankish woman, and they too will make report of the taking of the ship and the capture of this lady, who is of the house of Salah-ed-din and whom he seeks more earnestly than all the kingdom of the Franks. What have you to say?”

“Lord,” answered the tall fedai, and his hand trembled as he spoke, “most mighty lord, I had no orders as to the killing of the crew from your lips, and the Frank Lozelle told me that he had agreed with you that they should be spared.”

“Then, slave, he lied. He agreed with me through that dead spy that they should be slain, and do you not know that if I give no orders in such a case I mean death, not life? But what of the prince Hassan?”

“Lord, I have nothing to say. I think he must have bribed the spy named Nicholas”–and he pointed to the corpse–“to cut his bonds, and afterwards killed the man for vengeance sake, for by the body we found a heavy purse of gold. That he hated him as he hated yonder Lozelle I know, for he called them dogs and traitors in the boat; and since he could not strike them, his hands being bound, he spat in their faces, cursing them in the name of Allah. That is why, Lozelle being afraid to be near him, I set the spy Nicholas, who was a bold fellow, as a watch over him, and two soldiers outside the tent, while Lozelle and I watched the lady.”

“Let those soldiers be brought,” said Sinan, “and tell their story.”

They were brought and stood by their captain, but they had no story to tell. They swore that they had not slept on guard, nor heard a sound, yet when morning came the prince was gone. Again the Lord of Death stroked his black beard. Then he held up the Signet before the eyes of the three men, saying:

“You see the token. Go.”

“Lord,” said the fedai, “I have served you well for many years.”

“Your service is ended. Go! ” was the stern answer.

The fedai bowed his head in salute, stood for a moment as though lost in thought, then, turning suddenly, walked with a steady step to the edge of the abyss and leapt. For an instant the sunlight shone on his white and fluttering robe, then from the depths of that darksome place floated up the sound of a heavy fall, and all was still.

“Follow your captain to Paradise,” said Sinan to the two soldiers, whereon one of them drew a knife to stab himself, but a dai sprang up, saying:

“Beast, would you shed blood before your lord? Do you not know the custom? Begone!”

So the poor men went, the first with a steady step, and the second, who was not so brave, reeling over the edge of the precipice as one might who is drunken.

“It is finished,” said the dais, clapping their hands gently. “Dread lord, we thank thee for thy justice.”

But Rosamund turned sick and faint, and even the brethren paled. This man was terrible indeed–if he were a man and not a devil–and they were in his power. How long would it be, they wondered, before they also were bidden to walk that gulf? Only Wulf swore in his heart that if he went by this road Sinan should go with him.

Then the corpse of the false palmer was borne away to be thrown to the eagles which always hovered over that house of death, and Sinan, having reseated himself upon the cushion, began to talk again through his “mouth” Masouda, in a low, quiet voice, as though nothing had happened to anger him.

“Lady,” he said to Rosamund, “your story is known to me. Salah-ed-din seeks you, nor is it wonderful”–here his eyes glittered with a new and horrible light–“that he should desire to see such loveliness at his court, although the Frank Lozelle swore through yonder dead spy that you are precious in his eyes because of some vision that has come to him. Well, this heretic sultan is my enemy whom Satan protects, for even my fedais have failed to kill him, and perhaps there will be war on account of you. But have no fear, for the price at which you shall be delivered to him is higher than Salah-ed-din himself would care to pay, even for you. So, since this castle is impregnable, here you may dwell at peace, nor shall any desire be denied you. Speak, and your wishes are fulfilled.”

“I desire,” said Rosamund in a low, steady voice, “protection against Sir Hugh Lozelle and all men.”

“It is yours. The Lord of the Mountain covers you with his own mantle.”

“I desire,” she went on, “that my brothers here may lodge with me, that I may not feel alone among strange people.”

He thought awhile, and answered:

“Your brethren shall lodge near you in the guest castle. Why not, since from them you cannot need protection? They shall meet you at the feast and in the garden. But, lady, do you know it? They came here upon faith of some old tale of a promise made by him who went before me to ask my help to recover you from Salah-ed-din, unwitting that I was your host, not Salah-ed-din. That they should meet you thus is a chance which makes even my wisdom wonder, for in it I see omens. Now she whom they wished to rescue from Salah-ed-din, these tall brethren of yours might wish to rescue from Al-je-bal. Understand then, all of you, that from the Lord of Death there is but one escape. Yonder runs its path,” and he pointed to the dizzy place whence his three servants had leapt to their doom

“Knights,” he went on, addressing Godwin and Wulf, “lead your sister hence. This evening I bid her, and you to my banquet. Till then, farewell. Woman,” he added to Masouda, “accompany them. You know your duties; this lady is in your charge. Suffer that no strange man comes near her–above all, the Frank Lozelle. Dais take notice and let it be proclaimed–To these three is given the protection of the Signet in all things, save that they must not leave my walls except under sanction of the Signet–nay, in its very presence.”

The dais rose, bowed, and seated themselves again. Then, guided by Masouda and preceded and followed by guards, the brethren and Rosamund walked down the terrace through the curtains into the chancel-like place where men crouched upon the ground; through the great hall were more men crouched upon the ground; through the ante-chamber where, at a word from Masouda, the guards saluted; through passages to that place where they had slept. Here Masouda halted and said:

“Lady Rose of the World, who are fitly so named, I go to prepare your chamber. Doubtless you will wish to speak awhile with these your–brothers. Speak on and fear not, for it shall be my care that you are left alone, if only for a little while. Yet walls have ears, so I counsel you use that English tongue which none of us understand in the land of Al-je-bal–not even I.”

Then she bowed and went.

Chapter Thirteen: The Embassy

The brethren and Rosamund looked at each other, for having so much to say it seemed that they could not speak at all. Then with a low cry Rosamund said:

“Oh! let us thank God, Who, after all these black months of travel and of danger, has thus brought us together again,” and, kneeling down there together in the guest-hall of the lord of Death, they gave thanks earnestly. Then, moving to the centre of the chamber where they thought that none would hear them, they began to speak in low voices and in English.

“Tell you your tale first, Rosamund,” said Godwin.

She told it as shortly as she could, they listening without a word.

Then Godwin spoke and told her theirs. Rosamund heard it, and asked a question almost in a whisper.

“Why does that beautiful dark-eyed woman befriend you?”

“I do not know,” answered Godwin, “unless it is because of the accident of my having saved her from the lion.”

Rosamund looked at him and smiled a little, and Wulf smiled also. Then she said:

“Blessings be on that lion and all its tribe! I pray that she may not soon forget the deed, for it seems that our lives hang upon her favour. How strange is this story, and how desperate our case! How strange also that you should have come on hither against her counsel, which, seeing what we have, I think was honest?”

“We were led,” answered Godwin. “Your father had wisdom at his death, and saw what we could not see.”

“Ay,” added Wulf, “but I would that it had been into some other place, for I fear this lord Al-je-bal at whose nod men hurl themselves to death.”

“He is hateful,” answered Rosamund, with a shudder; “worse even than the knight Lozelle; and when he fixes his eyes on me, my heart grows sick. Oh! that we could escape this place!”

“An eel in an osier trap has more chance of freedom,” said Wulf gloomily. ” Let us at least be thankful that we are caged together–for how long, I wonder?”

As he spoke Masouda appeared, attended by waiting women, and, bowing to Rosamund, said:

“It is the will of the Master, lady, that I lead you to the chambers that have been made ready for you, there to rest until the hour of the feast. Fear not; you shall meet your brethren then. You knights have leave, if it so pleases you, to exercise your horses In the gardens. They stand saddled in the courtyard, to which this woman will bring you,” and she pointed to one of those two maids who had cleaned the armour, “and with them are guides and an escort.”

“She means that we must go,” muttered Godwin, adding aloud, “farewell, sister, until tonight.”

So they parted, unwillingly enough. In the courtyard they found the horses, Flame and Smoke, as they had been told, also a mounted escort of four fierce-looking fedais and an officer. When they were in the saddle, this man, motioning to them to follow him, passed by an archway out of the courtyard into the gardens. Hence ran a broad road strewn with sand, along which he began to gallop. This road followed the gulf which encircled the citadel and inner town of Masyaf, that was, as it were, an island on a mountain top with a circumference of over three miles.

As they went, the gulf always on their right hand, holding in their horses to prevent their passing that of their guide, swift as it was, they saw another troop approaching them. This was also preceded by an officer of the Assassins, as these servants of Al-je-bal were called by the Franks, and behind him, mounted on a splendid coalblack steed and followed by guards, rode a mail-clad Frankish knight.

“It is Lozelle,” said Wulf, “upon the horse that Sinan promised him.”

At the sight of the man a fury took hold of Godwin. With a shout of warning he drew his sword. Lozelle saw, and out leapt his blade in answer. Then sweeping past the officers who were with them and reining up their steeds, in a second they were face to face. Lozelle struck first and Godwin caught the stroke upon his buckler, but before he could return it the fedais of either party rushed between them and thrust them asunder.

“A pity,” said Godwin, as they dragged his horse away. “Had they left us alone I think, brother, I might have saved you a moonlight duel.”

“That I do not want to miss, but the chance at his head was good if those fellows would have let you take it,” answered Wulf reflectively.

Then the horses began to gallop again, and they saw no more of Lozelle. Now, skirting the edge of the town, they came to the narrow, wall-less bridge that spanned the gulf between it and the outer gate and city. Here the officer wheeled his horse, and, beckoning to them to follow, charged it at full gallop. After him went the brethren–Godwin first, then Wulf. In the deep gateway on the further side they reined up. The captain turned, and began to gallop back faster than he had come–as fast, indeed, as his good beast would travel.

“Pass him!” cried Godwin, and shaking the reins loose upon the neck of Flame he called to it aloud.

Forward it sprang, with Smoke at its heels. Now they had overtaken the captain, and now even on that narrow way they had swept past him. Not an inch was there to spare between them and the abyss, and the man, brave as he was, expecting to be thrust to death, clung to his horse’s mane with terror in his eyes. On the city side the brethren pulled up laughing among the astonished fedais who had waited for them there.

“By the Signet,” cried the officer, thinking that the knights could not understand, “these are not men; they are devils, and their horses are goats of the mountains. I thought to frighten them, but it is I who was frightened, for they swept past me like eagles of the air.”

“Gallant riders and swift, well-trained steeds,” answered one of the fedais, with admiration in his voice. “The fight at the full moon will be worth our seeing.”

Then once more they took the sand-strewn road and galloped on. Thrice they passed round the city thus, the last time by themselves, for the captain and the fedais were far outstripped. Indeed it was not until they had unsaddled Flame and Smoke in their stalls that these appeared, spurring their foaming horses. Taking no heed of them, the brethren thrust aside the grooms, dressed their steeds down, fed and watered them.

Then having seen them eat, there being no more to do, they walked back to the guest-house, hoping to find Rosamund. But they found no Rosamund, so sat down together and talked of the wonderful things that had befallen them, and of what might befall them in the future; of the mercy of Heaven also which had brought them all three together safe and sound, although it was in this house of hell. So the time passed on, till about the hour of sunset the women servants came and led them to the bath, where the black slaves washed and perfumed them, clothing them in fresh robes above their armour.

When they came out the sun was down, and the women, bearing torches in their hands, conducted them to a great and gorgeous hall which they had not seen before, built of fretted stone and having a carved and painted roof. Along one side of this hall, that was lit with cressets, were a number of round-headed open arches supported by elegant white columns, and beyond these a marble terrace with flights of steps which led to the gardens beneath. On the floor of this hall, each seated upon his cushion beside low tables inlaid with pearl sat the guests, a hundred or more, all dressed in white robes on which the red dagger was blazoned, and all as silent as though they were asleep.

When the brethren reached the place the women left them, and servants with gold chains round their necks escorted them to a dais in the middle of the hall where were many cushions, as yet unoccupied, arranged in a semicircle, of which the centre was a divan higher and more gorgeous than the rest.

Here places were pointed out to them opposite the divan, and they took their stand by them. They had not long to wait, for presently there was a sound of music, and, heralded by troops of singing women, the lord Sinan approached, walking slowly down the length of the great hall. It was a strange procession, for after the women came the aged, white robed dais, then the lord Al-je-bal himself, clad now in his blood-red, festal robe, and wearing jewels on his turban.

Around him marched four slaves, black as ebony, each of whom held a flaming torch on high, while behind followed the two gigantic guards who had stood sentry over him when he sat under the canopy of justice. As he advanced down the hall every man in it rose and prostrated himself, and so remained until their lord was seated, save only the two brethren, who stood erect like the survivors among the slain of a battle. Settling himself among the cushions at one end of the divan, he waved his hand, whereon the feasters, and with them Godwin and Wulf, sat themselves down.

Now there was a pause, while Sinan glanced along the hall impatiently. Soon the brethren saw why, since at the end opposite to that by which he had entered appeared more singing women, and after them, also escorted by four black torch-bearers, only these were women, walked Rosamund and, behind her, Masouda.

Rosamund it was without doubt, but Rosamund transformed, for now she seemed an Eastern queen. Round her head was a coronet of gems from which hung a veil, but not so as to hide her face. Jewelled, too, were her heavy plaits of hair, jewelled the rose-silk garments that she wore, the girdle at her waist, her naked, ivory arms and even the slippers on her feet. As she approached in her royal-looking beauty all the guests at that strange feast stared first at her and next at each other. Then as though by a single impulse they rose and bowed.

“What can this mean?” muttered Wulf to Godwin as they did likewise. But Godwin made no answer.

On came Rosamund, and now, behold! the lord Al-je-bal rose also and, giving her his hand, seated her by him on the divan.

“Show no surprise, Wulf,” muttered Godwin, who had caught a warning look in the eyes of Masouda as she took up her position behind Rosamund.

Now the feast began. Slaves running to and fro, set dish after dish filled with strange and savoury meats, upon the little inlaid tables, those that were served to Sinan and his guests fashioned, all of them, of silver or of gold.

Godwin and Wulf ate, though not for hunger’s sake, but of what they ate they remembered nothing who were watching Sinan and straining their ears to catch all he said without seeming to take note or listen. Although she strove to hide it and to appear indifferent, it was plain to them that Rosamund was much afraid. Again and again Sinan presented to her choice morsels of food, sometimes on the dishes and sometimes with his fingers, and these she was obliged to take. All the while also he devoured her with his fierce eyes so that she shrank away from him to the furthest limit of the divan.

Then wine, perfumed and spiced, was brought in golden cups, of which, having drunk, he offered to Rosamund. But she shook her head and asked Masouda for water, saying that she touched nothing stronger, and it was given her, cooled with snow. The brethren asked for water also, whereon Sinan looked at them suspiciously and demanded the reason. Godwin replied through Masouda that they were under an oath to touch no wine till they returned to their own country, having fulfilled their mission. To this he answered meaningly that it was good and right to keep oaths, but he feared that theirs would make them water-drinkers for the rest of their lives, a saying at which their hearts sank.

Now the wine that he had drunk took hold of Sinan, and he began to talk who without it was so silent.

“You met the Frank Lozelle to-day,” he said to Godwin, through Masouda, “when riding in my gardens, and drew your sword on him. Why did you not kill him? Is he the better man?”

“It seems not, as once before I worsted him and I sit here unhurt, lord,” answered Godwin. “Your servants thrust between and separated us.”

“Ay,” replied Sinan, “I remember; they had orders. Still, I would that you had killed him, the unbelieving dog, who has dared to lift his eyes to this Rose of Roses, your sister. Fear not,” he went on, addressing Rosamund, “he shall offer you no more insult, who are henceforth under the protection of the Signet,” and stretching out his thin, cruel-looking hand, on which gleamed the ring of power, he patted her on the arm.

All of these things Masouda translated, while Rosamund dropped her head to hide her face, though on it were not the blushes that he thought, but loathing and alarm.

Wulf glared at the Al-je-bal, whose head by good fortune was turned away, and so fierce was the rage swelling in his heart that a mist seemed to gather before his eyes, and through it this devilish chief of a people of murderers, clothed in his robe of flaming red, looked like a man steeped in blood. The thought came to him suddenly that he would make him what he looked, and his hand passed to his sword-hilt. But Godwin saw the terror in Masouda’s eyes, saw Wulf’s hand also, and guessed what was about to chance. With a swift movement of his arm he struck a golden dish from the table to the marble floor, then said, in a clear voice in French:

“Brother, be not so awkward; pick up that dish and answer the lord Sinan as is your right–I mean, touching the matter of Lozelle.”

Wulf stooped to obey, and his mind cleared which had been so near to madness.

“I wish it not, lord,” he said, “who, if I can, have your good leave to slay this fellow on the third night from now. If I fail, then let my brother take my place, but not before.”

“Yes, I forgot,” said Sinan. “So I decreed, and that will be a fight I wish to see. If he kills you then your brother shall meet him. And if he kills you both, then perhaps I, Sinan, will meet him–in my own fashion. Sweet lady, knowing where the course is laid, say, do you fear to see this fray?”

Rosamund’s face paled, but she answered proudly:

“Why should I fear what my brethren do not fear? They are brave knights, bred to arms, and God, in Whose hand are all our destinies– even yours, O Lord of Death –He will guard the right.”

When this speech was translated to him Sinan quailed a little. Then he answered:

“Lady, know that I am the Voice and Prophet of Allah–ay, and his sword to punish evil-doers and those who do not believe. Well, if what I hear is true, your brethren are skilled horsemen who even dared to pass my servant on the narrow bridge, so victory may rest with them. Tell me which of them do you love the least, for he shall first face the sword of Lozelle.”

Now as Rosamund prepared herself to answer Masouda scanned her face through her half-closed eyes. But whatever she may have felt within, it remained calm and cold as though it were cut in stone.

“To me they are as one man,” she said. “When one speaks, both speak. I love them equally.”

“Then, Guest of my heart, it shall go as I have said Brother Blue-eyes shall fight first, and if he falls then Brother Grey-eyes. The feast is ended, and it is my hour for prayer. Slaves, bid the people fill their cups. Lady, I pray of you, stand forward on the dais.”

She obeyed, and at a sign the black slave-women gathered behind her with their flaming torches. Then Sinan rose also, and cried with a loud voice:

“Servants of Al-je-bal, pledge, I command you, this Flower of flowers, the high-born Princess of Baalbec, the niece of the Sultan, Salah-ed-din, whom men call the Great,” and he sneered, “though he be not so great as I, this Queen of maids who soon–” Then, checking himself, he drank off his wine, and with a low bow presented the empty, jewelled cup to Rosamund. All the company drank also, and shouted till the hall rang, for her loveliness as she stood thus in the fierce light of the torches, aflame as these men were with the vision-breeding wine of Al-je-bal, moved them to madness.

“Queen! Queen!” they shouted. “Queen of our Master and of us all!”

Sinan heard and smiled. Then, motioning for silence, he took the hand of Rosamund, kissed it, and turning, passed from the hall preceded by his singing women and surrounded by the dais and guards.

Godwin and Wulf stepped forward to speak with Rosamund, but Masouda interposed herself between them, saying in a cold, clear voice:

“It is not permitted. Go, knights, and cool your brows in yonder garden, where sweet water runs. Your sister is my charge. Fear not, for she is guarded.”

“Come,” said Godwin to Wulf; “we had best obey.”

So together they walked through the crowd of those feasters that remained, for most of them had already left the hall, who made way, not without reverence, for the brethren of this new star of beauty, on to the terrace, and from the terrace into the gardens. Here they stood awhile in the sweet freshness of the night, which was very grateful after the heated, perfume-laden air of the banquet; then began to wander up and down among the scented trees and flowers. The moon, floating in a cloudless sky, was almost at its full, and by her light they saw a wondrous scene. Under many of the trees and in tents set about here and there, rugs were spread, and to them came men who had drunk of the wine of the feast, and cast themselves down to sleep.

“Are they drunk?” asked Wulf.

“It would seem so,” answered Godwin.

Yet these men appeared to be mad rather than drunk, for they walked steadily enough, but with wide-set, dreamy eyes; nor did they seem to sleep upon the rugs, but lay there staring at the sky and muttering with their lips, their faces steeped in a strange, unholy rapture. Sometimes they would rise and walk a few paces with outstretched arms, till the arms closed as though they clasped something invisible, to which they bent their heads to babble awhile. Then they walked back to their rugs again, where they remained silent.

As they lay thus, white-veiled women appeared, who crouched by the heads of these sleepers, murmuring into their ears, and when from time to time they sat up, gave them to drink from cups they carried, after partaking of which they lay down again and became quite senseless.

Only the women would move on to others and serve them likewise. Some of them approached the brethren with a slow, gliding motion, and offered them the cup; but they walked forward, taking no notice, whereupon the girls left them, laughing softly, and saying such things as “Tomorrow we shall meet,” or “Soon you will be glad to drink and enter into Paradise.”

“When the time comes doubtless we shall be glad, who have dwelt here,” answered Godwin gravely, but as he spoke in French they did not understand him.

“Step out, brother,” said Wulf, “for at the very sight of those rugs I grow sleepy, and the wine in the cups sparkles as bright as their bearers’ eyes.”

So they walked on towards the sound of a waterfall, and, when they came to it, drank, and bathed their faces and heads.

“This is better than their wine,” said Wulf. Then, catching sight of more women flitting round them, looking like ghosts amid the moonlit glades, they pressed forward till they reached an open sward where there were no rugs, no sleepers, and no cupbearers.

“Now,” said Wulf, halting, “tell me what does all this mean?”

“Are you deaf and blind?” asked Godwin. “Cannot you see that yonder fiend is in love with Rosamund, and means to take her, as he well may do?”

Wulf groaned aloud, then answered: “I swear that first I will send his soul to hell, even though our own must keep it company.”

“Ay,” answered Godwin, “I saw; you went near to it tonight. But remember, that is the end for all of us. Let us wait then to strike until we must–to save her from worse things.”

“Who knows that we may find another chance? Meanwhile, meanwhile–” and again he groaned.

“Among those ornaments that hung about the waist of Rosamund I saw a jewelled knife,” answered Godwin, sadly. “She can be trusted to use it if need be, and after that we can be trusted to do our worst. At least, I think that we should die in a fashion that would be remembered in this mountain.”

As they spoke they had loitered towards the edge of the glade, and halting there stood silent, till presently from under the shadow of a cedar tree appeared a solitary, white robed woman.

“Let us be going,” said Wulf; “here is another of them with her accursed cup.”

But before they could turn the woman glided up to them and suddenly unveiled. It was Masouda.

“Follow me, brothers Peter and John,” she said in a laughing whisper. “I have words to say to you. What! you will not drink? Well, it is wisest.” And emptying the cup upon the ground she flitted ahead of them.

Silently as a wraith she went, now appearing in the open spaces, now vanishing, beneath the dense gloom of cedar boughs, till she reached a naked, lonely rock which stood almost upon the edge of the gulf. Opposite to this rock was a great mound such as ancient peoples reared over the bodies of their dead, and in the mound, cunningly hidden by growing shrubs, a massive door.

Masouda took a key from her girdle, and, having looked around to see that they were alone, unlocked it.

“Enter,” she said, pushing them before her. They obeyed, and through the darkness within heard her close the door.

“Now we are safe awhile,” she said with a sigh, “or, at least, so I think. But I will lead you to where there is more light.

Then, taking each of them by the hand, she went forward along a smooth incline, till presently they saw the moonlight, and by it discovered that they stood at the mouth of a cave which was fringed with bushes. Running up from the depths of the gulf below to this opening was a ridge or shoulder of rock, very steep and narrow.

“See the only road that leads from the citadel of Masyaf save that across the bridge,” said Masouda.

“A bad one,” answered Wulf, staring downward.

“Ay, yet horses trained to rocks can follow it. At its foot is the bottom of the gulf, and a mile or more away to the left a deep cleft which leads to the top of the mountain and to freedom. Will you not take it now? By tomorrow’s dawn you might be far away.”

“And where would the lady Rosamund be?” asked Wulf.

“In the harem of the lord Sinan–that is, very soon,” she answered, coolly.

“Oh, say it not!” he exclaimed, clasping her arm, while Godwin leaned back against the wall of the cave.

“Why should I hide the truth? Have you no eyes to see that he is enamoured of her loveliness–like others? Listen; a while ago my master Sinan chanced to lose his queen–how, we need not ask, but it is said that she wearied him. Now, as he must by law, he mourns for her a month, from full moon to full moon. But on the day after the full moon–that is, the third morning from now–he may wed again, and I think there will be a marriage. Till then, however, your sister is as safe as though she yet sat at home in England before Salah-ed-din dreamed his dream.”

“Therefore,” said Godwin, “within that time she must either escape or die.”

“There is a third way,” answered Masouda, shrugging her shoulders. “She might stay and become the wife of Sinan.”

Wulf muttered something between his teeth, then stepped towards her threateningly, saying:

“Rescue her, or–“

“Stand back, pilgrim John,” she said, with a laugh. “If I rescue her, which indeed would be hard, it will not be for fear of your great sword.”

“What, then, will avail, Masouda?” asked Godwin in a sad voice. “To promise you money would be useless, even if we could.”

“I am glad that you spared me that insult,” she replied with flashing eyes, “for then there had been an end. Yet,” she added more humbly, “seeing my home and business, and what I appear to be,” and she glanced at her dress and the empty cup in her hand, “it had not been strange. Now hear me, and forget no word. At