He knew also that he travelled while he was ill, for at dawn he would hear the camp break up with a mighty3 noise, and feel his litter lifted by slaves who bore him along for hours across the burning sand, till at length the evening came, and with a humming sound, like the sound of hiving bees, the great army set its bivouac. Then came the night and the pale moon floating like a boat upon the azure4 sea above, and everywhere the bright, eternal stars, to which went up the constant cry of “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! God is the greatest, there is none but He.”
“It is a false god,” he would say. “Tell them to cry upon the Saviour5 of the World.”
Then the voice of Masouda would seem to answer:
“Judge not. No god whom men worship with a pure and single heart is wholly false. Many be the ladders that lead to heaven. Judge not, you Christian6 knight7.”
At length that journey was done, and there arose new noises as of the roar of battle. Orders were given and men marched out in thousands; then rose that roar, and they marched back again, mourning their dead.
At last came a day when, opening his eyes, Godwin turned to rest them on Masouda, and lo! she was gone, and in her accustomed place there sat a man whom he knew well—Egbert, once bishop8 of Nazareth, who gave him to drink of sherbet cooled with snow. Yes, the Woman had departed and the Priest was there.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“Outside the walls of Jerusalem, my son, a prisoner in the camp of Saladin,” was the answer.
“And where is Masouda, who has sat by me all these days?”
“In heaven, as I trust,” came the gentle answer, “for she was a brave lady. It is I who have sat by you.”
“Nay9,” said Godwin obstinately10, “it was Masouda.”
“If so,” answered the bishop again, “it was her spirit, for I shrove her and have prayed over her open grave—her spirit, which came to visit you from heaven, and has gone back to heaven now that you are of the earth again.”
Then Godwin remembered the truth, and groaning11, fell asleep. Afterwards, as he grew stronger, Egbert told him all the story. He learned that when he was found lying senseless on the body of Masouda the emirs wished Saladin to kill him, if for no other reason because he had dashed out the eye of the holy imaum with a lamp. But the Sultan, who had discovered the truth, would not, for he said that it was unworthy of the imaum to have mocked his grief, and that Sir Godwin had dealt with him as he deserved. Also, that this Frank was one of the bravest of knights12, who had returned to bear the punishment of a sin which he did not commit, and that, although he was a Christian, he loved him as a friend.
So the imaum lost both his eye and his vengeance13.
Thus it had come about that the bishop Egbert was ordered to nurse him, and, if possible to save his life; and when at last they marched upon Jerusalem, soldiers were told off to bear his litter, and a good tent was set apart to cover him. Now the siege of the holy city had begun, and there was much slaughter14 on both sides.
“Will it fall?” asked Godwin.
“I fear so, unless the saints help them,” answered Egbert. “Alas! I fear so.”
“Will not Saladin be merciful?” he asked again.
“Why should he be merciful, my son, since they have refused his terms and defied him? Nay, he has sworn that as Godfrey took the place nigh upon a hundred years ago and slaughtered15 the Mussulmen who dwelt there by thousands, men, women, and children together, so will he do to the Christians16. Oh! why should he spare them? They must die! They must die!” and wringing17 his hands Egbert left the tent.
Godwin lay still, wondering what the answer to this riddle18 might be. He could think of one, and one only. In Jerusalem was Rosamund, the Sultan’s niece, whom he must desire to recapture, above all things, not only because she was of his blood, but since he feared that if he did not do so his vision concerning her would come to nothing.
Now what was this vision? That through Rosamund much slaughter should be spared. Well, if Jerusalem were saved, would not tens of thousands of Moslem19 and Christian lives be saved also? Oh! surely here was the answer, and some angel had put it into his heart, and now he prayed for strength to plant it in the heart of Saladin, for strength and opportunity.
This very day Godwin found the opportunity. As he lay dozing20 in his tent that evening, being still too weak to rise, a shadow fell upon him, and opening his eyes he saw the Sultan himself standing21 alone by his bedside. Now he strove to rise to salute22 him, but in a kind voice Saladin bade him lie still, and seating himself, began to talk.
“Sir Godwin,” he said, “I am come to ask your pardon. When I sent you to visit that dead woman, who had suffered justly for her crime, I did an act unworthy of a king. But my heart was bitter against her and you, and the imaum, he whom you smote23, put into my mind the trick that cost him his eye and almost cost a worn-out and sorrowful man his life. I have spoken.”
“I thank you, sire, who were always noble,” answered Godwin.
“You say so. Yet I have done things to you and yours that you can scarcely hold as noble,” said Saladin. “I stole your cousin from her home, as her mother had been stolen from mine, paying back ill with ill, which is against the law, and in his own hall my servants slew25 her father and your uncle, who was once my friend. Well, these things I did because a fate drove me on—the fate of a dream, the fate of a dream. Say, Sir Godwin, is that story which they tell in the camps true, that a vision came to you before the battle of Hattin, and that you warned the leaders of the Franks not to advance against me?”
“Yes, it is true,” answered Godwin, and he told the vision, and of how he had sworn to it on the Rood.
“And what did they say to you?”
“They laughed at me, and hinted that I was a sorcerer, or a traitor26 in your pay, or both.”
“Blind fools, who would not hear the truth when it was sent to them by the pure mouth of a prophet,” muttered Saladin. “Well, they paid the price, and I and my faith are the gainers. Do you wonder, then, Sir Godwin, that I also believe my vision which came to me thrice in the night season, bringing with it the picture of the very face of my niece, the princess of Baalbec?”
“I do not wonder,” answered Godwin.
“Do you wonder also that I was mad with rage when I learned that at last yonder brave dead woman had outwitted me and all my spies and guards, and this after I had spared your lives? Do you wonder that I am still so wroth, believing as I do that a great occasion has been taken from me?”
“I do not wonder. But, Sultan, I who have seen a vision speak to you who also have seen a vision—a prophet to a prophet. And I tell you that the occasion has not been taken—it has been brought, yes, to your very door, and that all these things have happened that it might thus be brought.”
“Say on,” said Saladin, gazing at him earnestly.
“See now, Salah-ed-din, the princess Rosamund is in Jerusalem. She has been led to Jerusalem that you may spare it for her sake, and thus make an end of bloodshed and save the lives of folk uncounted.”
“Never!” said the Sultan, springing up. “They have rejected my mercy, and I have sworn to sweep them away, man, woman, and child, and be avenged27 upon all their unclean and faithless race.”
“Is Rosamund unclean that you would be avenged upon her? Will her dead body bring you peace? If Jerusalem is put to the sword, she must perish also.”
“I will give orders that she is to be saved—that she may be judged for her crime by me,” he added grimly.
“How can she be saved when the stormers are drunk with slaughter, and she but one disguised woman among ten thousand others?”
“Then,” he answered, stamping his foot, “she shall be brought or dragged out of Jerusalem before the slaughter begins.”
“That, I think, will not happen while Wulf is there to protect her,” said Godwin quietly.
“Yet I say that it must be so—it shall be so.”
Then, without more words, Saladin left the tent with a troubled brow.
Within Jerusalem all was misery28, all was despair. There were crowded thousands and tens of thousands of fugitives30, women and children, many of them, whose husbands and fathers had been slain31 at Hattin or elsewhere. The fighting men who were left had few commanders, and thus it came about that soon Wulf found himself the captain of very many of them.
First Saladin attacked from the west between the gates of Sts. Stephen and of David, but here stood strong fortresses32 called the Castle of the Pisans and the Tower of Tancred, whence the defenders33 made sallies upon him, driving back his stormers. So he determined34 to change his ground, and moved his army to the east, camping it near the valley of the Kedron. When they saw the tents being struck the Christians thought that he was abandoning the siege, and gave thanks to God in all their churches; but lo! next morning the white array of these appeared again on the east, and they knew that their doom35 was sealed.
There were in the city many who desired to surrender to the Sultan, and fierce grew the debates between them and those who swore that they would rather die. At length it was agreed that an embassy should be sent. So it came under safe conduct, and was received by Saladin in presence of his emirs and counsellors. He asked them what was their wish, and they replied that they had come to discuss terms. Then he answered thus:
“In Jerusalem is a certain lady, my niece, known among us as the princess of Baalbec, and among the Christians as Rosamund D’Arcy, who escaped thither36 a while ago in the company of the knight, Sir Wulf D’Arcy, whom I have seen fighting bravely among your warriors37. Let her be surrendered to me that I may deal with her as she deserves, and we will talk again. Till then I have no more to say.”
Now most of the embassy knew nothing of this lady, but one or two said they thought that they had heard of her, but had no knowledge of where she was hidden.
“Then return and search her out,” said Saladin, and so dismissed them.
Back came the envoys38 to the council and told what Saladin had said.
“At least,” exclaimed Heraclius the Patriarch, “in this matter it is easy to satisfy the Sultan. Let his niece be found and delivered to him. Where is she?”
Now one declared that was known by the knight, Sir Wulf D’Arcy, with whom she had entered the city. So he was sent for, and came with armour39 rent and red sword in hand, for he had just beaten back an attack upon the barbican, and asked what was their pleasure.
“We desire to know, Sir Wulf,” said the patriarch, “where you have hidden away the lady known as the princess of Baalbec, whom you stole from the Sultan?”
“What is that to your Holiness?” asked Wulf shortly.
“A great deal, to me and to all, seeing that Saladin will not even treat with us until she is delivered to him.”
“Does this council, then, propose to hand over a Christian lady to the Saracens against her will?” asked Wulf sternly.
“We must,” answered Heraclius. “Moreover, she belongs to them.”
“She does not belong,” answered Wulf. “She was kidnapped by Saladin in England, and ever since has striven to escape from him.”
“Waste not our time,” exclaimed the patriarch impatiently. “We understand that you are this woman’s lover, but however that may be, Saladin demands her, and to Saladin she must go. So tell us where she is without more ado, Sir Wulf.”
“Discover that for yourself, Sir Patriarch,” replied Wulf in fury. “Or, if you cannot, send one of your own women in her place.”
Now there was a murmur40 in the council, but of wonder at his boldness rather than of indignation, for this patriarch was a very evil liver.
“I care not if I speak the truth,” went on Wulf, “for it is known to all. Moreover, I tell this man that it is well for him that he is a priest, however shameful41, for otherwise I would cleave42 his head in two who has dared to call the lady Rosamund my lover.” Then, still shaking with wrath43, the great knight turned and stalked from the council chamber
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