Calling to one of his council, that same old imaum who had planned the casting of the lots, the Sultan spoke with him aside. Then he said:
“Let this knight be led to the woman Masouda. Tomorrow we will judge him.”
Taking a silver lamp from the wall, the imaum beckoned to Godwin, who bowed to the Sultan and followed. As he passed wearily through the throng in the audience room, it seemed to Godwin that the emirs and captains gathered there looked at him with pity in their eyes. So strong was this feeling in him that he halted in his walk, and asked:
“Tell me, lord, do I go to my death?”
“All of us go thither,” answered Saladin in the silence, “but Allah has not written that death is yours to-night.”
They passed down long passages; they came to a door which the imaum, who hobbled in front, unlocked.
“She is under ward then?” said Godwin.
“Ay,” was the answer, “under ward. Enter,” and he handed him the lamp. “I remain without.”
“Perchance she sleeps, and I shall disturb her,” said Godwin, as he hesitated upon the threshold.
“Did you not say she loved you? Then doubtless, even if she sleeps, she, who has dwelt at Masyaf will not take your visit ill, who have ridden so far to find her,” said the imaum with a sneering laugh. “Enter, I say.”