“Oh! my son,” the old bishop said, his face lighting up, “if God calls you, come to God. I will show you the road.”
“Yes, I will come,” Godwin answered quietly. “I will come, and, unless the Cross should once more call me to follow it in war, I will strive to spend the time that is left to me in His service and that of men. For I think, my father, that to this end I was born.”
Three days later Godwin was ordained a priest, there in the camp of Saladin, by the hand of the bishop Egbert, while around his tent the servants of Mahomet, triumphant at the approaching downfall of the Cross, shouted that God is great and Mahomet His only prophet.
Saladin lifted his head and looked at Balian.
“Tell me,” he said, “what of the princess of Baalbec, whom you know as the lady Rosamund D’Arcy? I told you that I would speak no more with you of the safety of Jerusalem until she was delivered to me for judgment. Yet I see her not.”
“Sultan,” answered Balian, “we found this lady in the convent of the Holy Cross, wearing the robe of a novice of that order. She had taken the sanctuary there by the altar which we deem so sacred and inviolable, and refused to come.”
Saladin laughed.
“Cannot all your men-at-arms drag one maiden from an altar stone?—unless, indeed, the great knight Wulf stood before it with sword aloft,” he added.
“So he stood,” answered Balian, “but it was not of him that we thought, though assuredly he would have slain some of us. To do this thing would have been an awful crime, which we were sure must bring down the vengeance of our God upon us and upon the city.”