Now there was an annexe to the tent, rudely furnished as a chapel, and at the end of this annexe a tall, veiled object. Rufinus, the bishop of Acre, who was clad in the armour of a knight, went to the object, and drawing the veil, revealed a broken, blackened cross, set around with jewels, that stood about the height of a man above the ground, for all the lower part was gone. At the sight of it Godwin and every man present there fell upon his knees, for since St. Helena found it, over seven centuries before, this had been accounted the most precious relic in all Christendom; the very wood upon which the Saviour suffered, as, indeed, it may have been. Millions had worshipped it, tens of thousands had died for it, and now, in the hour of this great struggle between Christ and the false prophet it was brought from its shrine that the host which escorted it might prove invincible in battle. Soldiers who fought around the very Cross could not be defeated, they said, for, if need were, legions of angels would come to aid them. Godwin and Wulf stared at the relic with wonder, fear, and adoration. There were the nail marks, there was the place where the scroll of Pilate had been affixed above the holy head—almost could they seem to see that Form divine and dying. “Now,” broke in the voice of the Master of the Templars, “let Sir Godwin D’Arcy swear to the truth of his tale upon this Rood.” Rising from his knees Godwin advanced to the Cross, and laying his hand upon the wood, said: “Upon the very Rood I swear that not much more than an hour ago I saw the vision which has been told to the king’s highness and to all; that I believe this vision was sent to me in answer to my prayer to preserve our host and the holy city from the power of the Saracen, and that it is a true foreshadowing of what will come about should we advance upon the Sultan. I can say no more. I swear, knowing that if I lie eternal damnation is my doom.” The bishop drew back the covering over the Cross, and in silence the council took their seats again about the table. Now the king was very pale, and fearful; indeed a gloom lay upon all of them. “It would seem,” he said, “that here a messenger has been sent to us from heaven. Dare we disobey his message?” The Grand Templar lifted his rugged, frowning face. “A messenger from heaven, said you, king? To me he seems more like a messenger from Saladin. Tell us, Sir Godwin, were not you and your brother once the Sultan’s guests at Damascus?” “That is so, my lord Templar. We left before the war was declared.” “And,” went on the Master, “were you not officers of the Sultan’s bodyguard?” Now all looked intently at Godwin, who hesitated a little, foreseeing how his answer would be read, whereon Wulf spoke in his loud voice: “Ay, we acted as such for awhile, and—doubtless you have heard the story—saved Saladin’s life when he was attacked by the Assassins.”