The man was not very tall, and slight in build, yet about him was much majesty, although his garb was such as the humblest might have worn. He came forward, lifting his head, and they saw that his features were small and finely cut; that he was bearded, and beneath his broad brow shone thoughtful yet at times piercing eyes which were brown in hue. Now the prince Hassan sank to his knees and touched the marble with his forehead, and, guessing that they were in the presence of the mighty monarch Saladin, the brethren saluted in their western fashion. Presently the Sultan spoke in a low, even voice to Hassan, to whom he motioned that he should rise, saying: “I can see that you trust these knights, Emir,” and he pointed to their great swords. “Sire,” was the answer, “I trust them as I trust myself. They are brave and honourable men, although they be infidels.” The Sultan stroked his beard. “Ay,” he said, “infidels. It is a pity, yet doubtless they worship God after their own fashion. Noble to look on also, like their father, whom I remember well, and, if all I hear is true, brave indeed. Sir Knights, do you understand my language?” “Sufficiently to speak it, lord,” answered Godwin, “who have learned it since childhood, yet ill enough.” “Good. Then tell me, as soldiers to a soldier, what do you seek from Salah-ed-din?” “Our cousin, the lady Rosamund, who, by your command, lord, was stolen from our home in England.” “Knights, she is your cousin, that I know, as surely as I know that she is my niece. Tell me now, is she aught more to you?” and he searched them with those piercing eyes. Godwin looked at Wulf, who said in English: “Speak the whole truth, brother. From that man nothing can be hid.” Then Godwin answered: “Sire, we love her, and are affianced to her.” The Sultan stared at them in surprise. “What! Both of you?” he asked. “Yes, both.” “And does she love you both?” “Yes,” replied Godwin, “both, or so she says.” Saladin stroked his beard and considered them, while Hassan smiled a little. “Then, knights,” he said presently, “tell me, which of you does she love best?” “That, sire, is known to her alone. When the time comes, she will say, and not before.” “I perceive,” said Saladin, “that behind this riddle hides a story. If it is your good pleasure, be seated, and set it out to me.” So they sat down on the divan and obeyed, keeping nothing back from the beginning to the end, nor, although the tale was long, did the Sultan weary of listening. “A great story, truly,” he said, when at length they had finished, “and one in which I seem to see the hand of Allah. Sir Knights, you will think that I have wronged you—ay, and your uncle, Sir Andrew, who was once my friend, although an older man than I, and who, by stealing away my sister, laid the foundations of this house of love and war and woe, and perchance of happiness unforeseen.