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 envoys 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 armour 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 murmur 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 shameful, for otherwise I would cleave his head in two who has dared to call the lady Rosamund my lover.” Then, still shaking with wrath, the great knight turned and stalked from the council chamber. “A dangerous man,” said Heraclius, who was white to the lips; “a very dangerous man. I propose that he should be imprisoned.” “Ay,” answered the lord Balian of Ibelin, who was in supreme command of the city, “a very dangerous man—to his foes, as I can testify. I saw him and his brother charge through the hosts of the Saracens at the battle of Hattin, and I have seen him in the breach upon the wall. Would that we had more such dangerous men just now!” “But he has insulted me,” shouted the patriarch, “me and my holy office.” “The truth should be no insult,” answered Balian with meaning. “At least, it is a private matter between you and him on account of which we cannot spare one of our few captains. Now as regards this lady, I like not the business—”