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.