But Rosamund had little to tell, except that she had been well treated, and always kept by the person of the Sultan, marching to and fro with his army, for he awaited the fulfilment of his dream concerning her. Then they told her all that had chanced to them; also of the vision of Godwin and its dreadful accomplishment, and of the death of Hassan beneath the sword of Wulf. At that story Rosamund wept and shrank from him a little, for though it was this prince who had stolen her from her home, she loved Hassan. Yet when Wulf said humbly: “The fault is not mine; it was so fated. Would that I had died instead of this Saracen!” Rosamund answered: “No, no; I am proud that you should have conquered.” But Wulf shook his head, and said: “I am not proud. Although weary with that awful battle, I was still the younger and stronger man, though at first he well-nigh mastered me by his skill and quickness. At least we parted friends. Look, he gave me this,” and he showed her the great emerald badge which the dying prince had given him. Masouda, who all this while had sat very quiet, came forward and looked at it. “Do you know,” she asked, “that this jewel is very famous, not only for its value, but because it is said to have belonged to one of the children of the prophet, and to bring good fortune to its owner?” Wulf smiled. “It brought little to poor Hassan but now, when my grandsire’s sword shore the Damascus steel as though it were wet clay.” “And sent him swift to Paradise, where he would be, at the hands of a gallant foe,” answered Masouda. “Nay, all his life this emir was happy and beloved, by his sovereign, his wives, his fellows and his servants, nor do I think that he would have desired another end whose wish was to die in battle with the Franks. At least there is scarce a soldier in the Sultan’s army who would not give all he has for yonder trinket, which is known throughout the land as the Star of Hassan. So beware, Sir Wulf, lest you be robbed or murdered, although you have eaten the salt of Salah-ed-din.” “I remember the captain Abdullah looking at it greedily and lamenting that the Luck of the House of Hassan should pass to an unbeliever,” said Wulf. “Well, enough of this jewel and its dangers; I think Godwin has words to say.” “Yes,” said Godwin. “We are here in your tent through the kindness of Saladin, who did not wish us to witness the death of our comrades, but to-morrow we shall be separated again. Now if you are to escape—” “I will escape! I must escape, even if I am recaptured and die for it,” broke in Rosamund passionately. “Speak low,” said Masouda. “I saw the eunuch Mesrour pass the door of the tent, and he is a spy—they all are spies.” “If you are to escape,” repeated Godwin in a whisper, “it must be within the next few weeks while the army is on the march. The risk is great to all of us—even to you, and we have no plan. But, Masouda, you are clever; make one, and tell it to us.”