“Good,” said Masouda; “I will see that he is there and awake. Now farewell, and pray that we may meet again. I say nothing of this story to the princess Rosamund until it is done with.” Then throwing her cloak about her shoulders, she turned and went.
“Is that true, think you?” asked Wulf of Godwin.
“We have never found Masouda to be a liar,” was his answer. “Come; let us see to our armour, for the knives of those fedaï are sharp.”
It was near midnight, and the brethren stood in the small, domed ante-chamber, from which a door opened into the sleeping rooms of Saladin. The guard of eight Mameluks had left them, to be met by their relief in the courtyard, according to custom, but no relief had as yet appeared in the ante-chamber.
“It would seem that Masouda’s tale is true,” said Godwin, and going to the door he locked it, and hid the key beneath a cushion.
Then they took their stand in front of the locked door, before which hung curtains, standing in the shadow with the light from the hanging silver lamps pouring down in front of them. Here they waited awhile in silence, till at length they heard the tramp of men, and eight Mameluks, clad in yellow above their mail, marched in and saluted.
“Stand!” said Godwin, and they stood a minute, then began to edge forward.
“Stand!” said both the brethren again, but still they edged forward.
“Stand, sons of Sinan!” they said a third time, drawing their swords.
Then with a hiss of disappointed rage the fedaï came at them.