"Richard, my husband," said she, softly, "you and Musa and my Lord Godfrey did wrong to come hither; but I love you for it more. God will be kind. You will not find it long to wait for me in heaven."
"May Christ pity you, sweet wife!" answered the Norman.
"He will pity, do not fear." That was all she said. She was gone. Her wondrous eyes lit the room no more; but a peace was lighted in Richard's heart, which naught could take away. Iftikhar turned abruptly the moment the Greek had vanished.
"My friends," declared he, with an ill-assumed irony, "I can do nothing further to serve you. Before midnight our long accounting is ended. Leave to Allah the rest. Others will care for you at the tribunal."
Richard held up his head proudly.
"And I, Richard Longsword, standing in the presence of death, do cite you, Iftikhar Eddauleh, to stand with me before no less a tribunal than the judgment seat of Almighty God. There to answer, not as Moslem to Christian, but as man to man, for the blood you have shed wantonly, the foul deeds you have plotted, the pure women you have wronged, the very saint of God you have brought to agony. At His judgment seat I will accuse you, and you shall make answer to Him and all His holy angels. So say I!"
"And I!" thundered Godfrey.
"And I!" cried Musa.
They saw the Ismaelian's face flush once more. By an effort he reined his curses. Without a word he vanished. Richard turned to his comrades.
"Dear friends, this is the last adventure," said he. "Heaven is witness I did not pray you to go with me to Aleppo."