“They would make a brave show of my death,” thought Rosamund again. Then a little cry broke from her lips, for there, in front of the throne of Saladin, the moonlight and the lamp-blaze shining on his armour, stood a tall Christian knight. At that cry he turned his head, and she grew sure that it was Wulf, wasted somewhat and grown pale, but still Wulf.
“So we are to die together,” she whispered to herself, then walked forward with a proud step amidst the deep silence, and, having bowed to Saladin, took the hand of Wulf and held it.
The Sultan looked at them and said:
“However long it may be delayed, the day of fate must break at last. Say, Franks, are you prepared to drink the dregs of that cup I promised you?”
“We are prepared,” they answered with one voice.
“Do you grieve now that you laid down your lives to save those of all Jerusalem?” he asked again.
“Nay,” Rosamund answered, glancing at Wulf’s face; “we rejoice exceedingly that God has been so good to us.”
“I too rejoice,” said Saladin; “and I too thank Allah Who in bygone days sent me that vision which has given me back the holy city of Jerusalem without bloodshed. Now all is accomplished as it was fated. Lead them away.”
For a moment they clung together, then emirs took Wulf to the right and Rosamund to the left, and she went with a pale face and high head to meet her executioner, wondering if she would see Godwin ere she died. They led her to a chamber where women waited but no swordsman that she could see, and shut the door upon her.
“Perchance I am to be strangled by these women,” thought Rosamund, as they came towards her, “so that the blood royal may not be shed.”