“Sir Wulf, are you already weary of the enchanted Star of Fortune, or would you bequeath it to us?”
Now Wulf came back, saying heavily:
“I forgot the thing—who would not at such a time? Where is it? I left it on the cushion.”
“Try the hand of Mesrour,” said Masouda, whereat with a very crooked smile the eunuch produced it, and said:
“I wished to show you, Sir Knight, that you must be careful with such gems as these, especially in a camp where there are many dishonest persons.”
“I thank you,” answered Wulf as he took it; “you have shown me.” Then, followed by the sound of Masouda’s mocking laughter, they left the tent.
The Sultan’s messenger led them forward, across ground strewn with the bodies of the murdered Templars and Hospitallers, lying as Godwin had seen them in his dream on the mountain top near Nazareth. Over one of these corpses Godwin stumbled in the gloom, so heavily, that he fell to his knees. He searched the face in the starlight, to find it was that of a knight of the Hospitallers of whom he had made a friend at Jerusalem—a very good and gentle Frenchman, who had abandoned high station and large lands to join the order for the love of Christ and charity. Such was his reward on earth—to be struck down in cold blood, like an ox by its butcher. Then, muttering a prayer for the repose of this knight’s soul, Godwin rose and, filled with horror, followed on to the royal pavilion, wondering why such things were.
Of all the strange feasts that they ever ate the brethren found this the strangest and the most sad. Saladin was seated at the head of the table with guards and officers standing behind him, and as each dish was brought he tasted it and no more, to show that it was not poisoned. Not far from him sat the king of Jerusalem and his brother, and all down the board great captive nobles, to the number of fifty or more. Sorry spectacles were these gallant knights in their hewn and blood-stained armour, pale-faced, too, with eyes set wide in horror at the dread deeds they had just seen done. Yet they ate, and ate ravenously, for now that their thirst was satisfied, they were mad with hunger. Thirty thousand Christians lay dead on the Horn and plain of Hattin; the kingdom of Jerusalem was destroyed, and its king a prisoner. The holy Rood was taken as a trophy. Two hundred knights of the sacred Orders lay within a few score of yards of them, butchered cruelly by those very emirs and doctors of the law who stood grave and silent behind their master’s seat, at the express command of that merciless master. Defeated, shamed, bereaved—yet they ate, and, being human, could take comfort from the thought that having eaten, by the law of the Arabs, at least their lives were safe.
Saladin called Godwin and Wulf to him that they might interpret for him, and gave them food, and they also ate who were compelled to it by hunger.
“Have you seen your cousin, the princess?” he asked; “and how found you her?” he asked presently.