At the village of Bittir, some seven miles from Jerusalem, the embassy dismounted to rest, then again they pressed forward down the valley in the hope of reaching the Zion Gate before the mid-day heat was upon them. At the end of this valley swelled² the shoulder of a hill whence the eye could command its length, and on the crest³ of that shoulder appeared suddenly a man and a woman, seated on beautiful horses. The company halted, fearing lest these might herald⁵ some attack and that the woman was a man disguised to deceive them. While they waited thus irresolute⁶, the pair upon the hill turned their horses’ heads, and notwithstanding its steepness, began to gallop⁸ towards them very swiftly. Wulf looked at them curiously⁹ and said to Godwin:  
“Now I am put in mind of a certain ride which once we took outside the walls of Beirut. Almost could I think that yonder Arab was he who sat behind my saddle, and yonder woman she who rode with you, and that those two horses were Flame and Smoke reborn. Note their whirlwind pace, and strength, and stride.”
 
Almost as he finished speaking the strangers pulled up their steeds in front of the company, to whom the man bowed his salutations. Then Godwin saw his face, and knew him at once as the old Arab called Son of the Sand, who had given them the horses Flame and Smoke.
 
“Sir,” said the Arab to the leader of the embassy, “I have come to ask a favour of yonder knights¹² who travel with you, which I think that they, who have ridden my horses, will not refuse me. This woman,” and he pointed¹³ to the closely-veiled shape of his companion, “is a relative of mine whom I desire to deliver to friends in Jerusalem, but dare not do so myself because the hilldwellers between here and there are hostile to my tribe. She is of the Christian¹⁴ faith and no spy, but cannot speak your language. Within the south gate she will be met by her relatives. I have spoken.”
 
“Let the knights settle it,” said the commander, shrugging his shoulders impatiently and spurring his horse.
 
“Surely we will take her,” said Godwin, “though what we shall do with her if her friends are wanting I do not know. Come, lady, ride between us.”
 
She turned her head to the Arab as though in question, and he repeated the words, whereon she fell into the place that was shown to her between and a little behind the brethren.
 
“Perhaps,” went on the Arab to Godwin, “by now you have learned more of our tongue than you knew when we met in past days at Beirut, and rode the mountain side on the good horses Flame and Smoke. Still, if so, I pray you of your knightly¹⁶ courtesy disturb not this woman with your words, nor ask her to unveil her face, since such is not the custom of her people. It is but an hour’s journey to the city gate during which you will be troubled with her. This is the payment that I ask of you for the two good horses which, as I am told, bore you none so ill upon the Narrow Way and across plain and mountain when you fled from Sinan, also on the evil day of Hattin when you unhorsed Salah-ed-din and slew¹⁷ Hassan.”
 
“It shall be as you wish,” said Godwin; “and, Son of the Sand, we thank you for those horses.”
 
“Good. When you want more, let it be known in the market places that you seek me,” and he began to turn his horse’s head.
 
“Stay,” said Godwin. “What do you know of Masouda, your niece? Is she with you?”
 
“Nay¹⁸,” answered the Arab in a low voice, “but she bade me be in a certain garden of which you have heard, near Ascalon, at an appointed hour, to take her away, as she is leaving the camp of Salah-ed-din. So thither¹⁹ I go. Farewell.” Then with a reverence²⁰ to the veiled lady, he shook his reins²¹ and departed like an arrow by the road along which they had come.
 
Godwin gave a sigh of relief. If Masouda had appointed to meet her uncle the Arab, at least she must be safe. So it was no voice of hers which seemed to whisper his name in the darkness of the night when terror had ahold of him—terror, born perhaps of all that he had endured and the shadow of death through which he had so lately passed. Then he looked up, to find Wulf staring back at the woman behind him, and reproved him, saying that he must keep to the spirit of the bargain as well as to the letter, and that if he might not speak he must not look either.
 
“That is a pity,” answered Wulf, “for though she is so tied up, she must be a tall and noble lady by the way she sits her horse. The horse, too, is noble, own cousin or brother to Smoke, I think. Perhaps she will sell it when we get to Jerusalem.”
 
Then they rode on, and because they thought their honour in it, neither spoke¹⁵ nor looked more at the companion of this adventure, though, had they known it, she looked hard enough at them.
 
At length they reached the gate of Jerusalem, which was crowded with folk awaiting the return of their ambassadors. They all passed through, and the embassy was escorted thence by the chief people, most of the multitude following them to know if they brought peace or war.
 
Now Godwin and Wulf stared at each other, wondering whither they were to go and where to find the relatives of their veiled companion, of whom they saw nothing. Out of the street opened an archway, and beyond this archway was a garden, which seemed to be deserted²². They rode into it to take counsel, and their companion followed, but, as always, a little behind them.
 
“Jerusalem is reached, and we must speak to her now,” said Wulf, “if only to ask her whither she wishes to be taken.”
 
Godwin nodded, and they wheeled their horses round.
 
“Lady,” he said in Arabic, “we have fulfilled our charge. Be pleased to tell us where are those kindred to whom we must lead you.”
 
“Here,” answered a soft voice.
 
They stared about the deserted garden in which stones and sacks of earth had been stored ready for a siege, and finding no one, said:
 
“We do not see them.”
 
Then the lady let slip her cloak, though not her veil revealing the robe beneath.
 
“By St. Peter!” said Godwin. “I know the broidery on that dress. Masouda! Say, is it you, Masouda?”
 
As he spoke the veil fell also, and lo! before them was a woman like to Masouda and yet not Masouda. The hair was dressed like hers; the ornaments²³ and the necklace made of the claws of the lion which Godwin killed were hers; the skin was of the same rich hue²⁴; there even was the tiny mole²⁵ upon her cheek, but as the head was bent²⁶ they could not see her eyes. Suddenly, with a little moan she lifted it, and looked at them.
 
“Rosamund! It is Rosamund herself!” gasped²⁷ Wulf. “Rosamund disguised as Masouda!”
 
And he fell rather than leapt from his saddle and ran to her, murmuring, “God! I thank Thee!”
 
Now she seemed to faint and slid from her horse into his arms, and lay there a moment, while Godwin turned aside his head.
 
“Yes,” said Rosamund, freeing herself, “it is I and no other, yet I rode with you all this way and neither of you knew me.”
 
“Have we eyes that can pierce veils and woollen garments?” asked Wulf indignantly; but Godwin said in a strange, strained voice:
 
“You are Rosamund disguised as Masouda. Who, then, was that woman to whom I bade farewell before Saladin while the headsman awaited me; a veiled woman who wore the robes and gems²⁸ of Rosamund?”
 
“I know not, Godwin,” she answered, “unless it were Masouda clad in my garments as I left her. Nor do I know anything of this story of the headsman who awaited you. I thought—I thought it was for Wulf that he waited—oh! Heaven, I thought that.”
 
“Tell us your tale,” said Godwin hoarsely²⁹.
 
“It is short,” she answered. “After the casting of the lot, of which I shall dream till my death-day, I fainted. When I found my senses again I thought that I must be mad, for there before me stood a woman dressed in my garments, whose face seemed like my face, yet not the same.
 
“‘Have no fear,’ she said; ‘I am Masouda, who, amongst many other things, have learned how to play a part. Listen; there is no time to lose. I have been ordered to leave the camp; even now my uncle the Arab waits without, with two swift horses. You, Princess, will leave in my place. Look, you wear my robes and my face—almost; and are of my height, and the man who guides you will know no difference. I have seen to that, for although a soldier of Salah-ed-din, he is of my tribe. I will go with you to the door, and there bid you farewell before the eunuchs and the guards with weeping, and who will guess that Masouda is the princess of Baalbec and that the princess of Baalbec is Masouda?’
 
“‘And whither shall I go?’ I asked.
 
“‘My uncle, Son of the Sand, will give you over to the embassy which rides to Jerusalem, or failing that, will take you to the city, or failing that, will hide you in the mountains among his own people. See, here is a letter that he must read; I place it in your breast.’
 
“‘And what of you, Masouda?’ I asked again.
 
“‘Of me? Oh! it is all planned, a plan that cannot fail,’ she answered. ‘Fear not; I escape to-night—I have no time to tell you how—and will join you in a day or two. Also, I think that you will find Sir Godwin, who will bring you home to England.’
 
“‘But Wulf? What of Wulf?’ I asked again. ‘He is doomed³¹ to die, and I will not leave him.’
 
“‘The living and the dead can keep no company,’ she answered. ‘Moreover, I have seen him, and all this is done by his most urgent order. If you love him, he bids that you will obey.’”
 
“I never saw Masouda! I never spoke such words! I knew nothing of this plot!” exclaimed Wulf, and the brethren looked at each other with white faces.
 
“Speak on,” said Godwin; “afterwards we can debate.”
 
“Moreover,” continued Rosamund, bowing her head, “Masouda added these words, ‘I think that Sir Wulf will escape his doom³⁰. If you would see him again, obey his word, for unless you obey you can never hope to look upon him living. Go, now, before we are both discovered, which would mean your death and mine, who, if you go, am safe.’”
 
“How knew she that I should escape?” asked Wulf.
 
“She did not know it. She only said she knew to force Rosamund away,” answered Godwin in the same strained voice. “And then?”
 
“And then—oh! having Wulf’s express commands, then I went, like one in a dream. I remember little of it. At the door we kissed and parted weeping, and while the guard bowed before her, she blessed me beneath her breath. A soldier stepped forward and said, ‘Follow me, daughter of Sinan,’ and I followed him, none taking any note, for at that hour, although perhaps you did not see it in your prisons, a strange shadow passed across the sun, of which all folk were afraid, thinking that it portended³² evil, either to Saladin or Ascalon.*
 
* The eclipse, which overshadowed Palestine and caused much terror at Jerusalem on 4th September, 1187, the day of the surrender of Ascalon.—Author
 
“In the gloom we came to a place, where was an old Arab among some trees, and with him two led horses. The soldier spoke to the Arab, and I gave him Masouda’s letter, which he read. Then he put me on one of the led horses and the soldier mounted the other, and we departed at a gallop. All that evening and last night we rode hard, but in the darkness the soldier left us, and I do not know whither he went. At length we came to that mountain shoulder and waited there, resting the horses and eating food which the Arab had with him, till we saw the embassy, and among them two tall knights.
 
“‘See,’ said the old Arab, ‘yonder come the brethren whom you seek. See and give thanks to Allah and to Masouda, who has not lied to you, and to whom I must now return.’
 
“Oh! my heart wept as though it would burst, and I wept in my joy—wept and blessed God and Masouda. But the Arab, Son of the Sand, told me that for my life’s sake I must be silent and keep myself close veiled and disguised even from you until we reached Jerusalem, lest perhaps if they knew me the embassy might refuse escort to the princess of Baalbec and niece of Saladin, or even give me up to him.
 
“Then I promised and asked, ‘What of Masouda?’ He said that he rode back at speed to save her also, as had been arranged, and that was why he did not take me to Jerusalem himself. But how that was to be done he was not sure as yet; only he was sure that she was hidden away safely, and would find a way of escape when she wished it. And—and—you know the rest, and here, by the grace of God, we three are together again.”
 
“Ay,” said Godwin, “but where is Masouda, and what will happen to her who has dared to venture such a plot as this? Oh! know you what this woman did? I was condemned³³ to die in place of Wulf—how, does not matter; you will learn it afterwards—and the princess of Baalbec was brought to say me farewell. There, under the very eyes of Saladin, Masouda played her part and mimicked³⁴ you so well that the Sultan was deceived, and I, even I, was deceived. Yes, when for the first and last time I embraced her, I was deceived, although, it is true, I wondered. Also since then a great fear has been with me, although here again I was deceived, for I thought I feared—for you.
 
“Now, hark you, Wulf; take Rosamund and lodge³⁵ her with some lady in this city, or, better still, place her in sanctuary³⁶ with the nuns³⁷ of the Holy Cross, whence none will dare to drag her, and let her don their habit. The abbess may remember you, for we have met her, and at least she will not refuse Rosamund a refuge.”
 
“Yes, yes; I mind me she asked us news of folk in England. But you? Where do you go, Godwin?” said his brother.
 
“I? I ride back to Ascalon to find Masouda.”
 
“Why?” asked Wulf. “Cannot Masouda save herself, as she told her uncle, the Arab, she would do? And has he not returned thither to take her away?”
 
“I do not know,” answered Godwin; “but this I do know, that for the sake of Rosamund, and perhaps for my sake also, Masouda has run a fearful risk. Bethink you, what will be the mood of Saladin when at length he finds that she upon whom he had built such hopes has gone, leaving a waiting woman decked out in her attire³⁸.”
 
“Oh!” broke in Rosamund. “I feared it, but I awoke to find myself disguised, and she persuaded me that all was well; also that this was done by the will of Wulf, whom she thought would escape.”
 
“That is the worst of if,” said Godwin. “To carry out her plan she held it necessary to lie, as I think she lied when she said that she believed we should both escape, though it is true that so it came about. I will tell you why she lied. It was that she might give her life to set you free to join me in Jerusalem.”
 
Now Rosamund, who knew the secret of Masouda’s heart, looked at him strangely, wondering within herself how it came about that, thinking Wulf dead or about to die, she should sacrifice herself that she, Rosamund, might be sent to the care of Godwin. Surely it could not be for love of her, although they loved each other well. From love of Godwin then? How strange a way to show it!
 
Yet now she began to understand. So true and high was this great love of Masouda’s that for Godwin’s sake she was ready to hide herself in death, leaving him—now that, as she thought, his rival was removed—to live on w............