“Ah! as I thought, he has been beforehand with us. Also, daughter, surely your discipline is somewhat lax if you suffer knights thus to invade your chapel. But lead us thither.”
“The dangers of the times and of the lady must answer for it,” the abbess replied boldly, as she obeyed.
Presently they were in the great, dim place, where the lamps burned day and night. There by the altar, built, it was said, upon the spot where the Lord stood to receive judgment, they saw a kneeling woman, who, clad in the robe of a novice, grasped the stonework with her hands. Without the rails, also kneeling, was the knight Wulf, still as a statue on a sepulchre. Hearing them, he rose, turned him about, and drew his great sword.
“Sheathe that sword,” commanded Heraclius.
“When I became a knight,” answered Wulf, “I swore to defend the innocent from harm and the altars of God from sacrilege at the hands of wicked men. Therefore I sheathe not my sword.”
“Take no heed of him,” said one; and Heraclius, standing back in the aisle, addressed Rosamund:
“Daughter,” he cried, “with bitter grief we are come to ask of you a sacrifice, that you should give yourself for the people, as our Master gave Himself for the people. Saladin demands you as a fugitive of his blood, and until you are delivered to him he will not treat with us for the saving of the city. Come forth, then, we pray you.”
Now Rosamund rose and faced them, with her hand resting upon the altar.
“I risked my life and I believe another gave her life,” she said, “that I might escape from the power of the Moslems. I will not come forth to return to them.”
“Then, our need being sore, we must take you,” answered Heraclius sullenly.