“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—”