is at Ascalon, separate from the
Duke of Burgundy.'

'Giafar ibn Mulk and Cogia Hassan,' said the Old Man, as if talking in
his sleep, 'come hither.' The two young men rose from the wall and fell
upon their faces before the throne. Their master spoke to them in the
tone of one ordering a meal.

Return with the Marquess to the coast by the way of Emesa and Baalbek;
and when you are within sight of Sidon, strike. One of you will be
burned alive. I think it will be Giafar. Let the other return speedily
with a token. The audience is finished.'

The Old Man closed his eyes. At a touch from another the two prostrate
Assassins crept up and kissed his foot, then rose, waiting for the
Marquess. He, pale as death, saw, felt, heard nothing. At another sign a
man put his hand on either shoulder.

'Ha, Jesus-God!' grunted the Marquess, as the sweat dripped off him.

'Stop bleating, silly sheep, you will awaken the Master,' said Giafar in
a quick whisper. They led him away, and the Old Man slept in peace.

* * * * *

The Marquess saw nothing of his people at Mont-Ferrand, for (to begin
with) they were not there, and (secondly) he was led another way. By the
desolate crag of Masyaf, where a fortress, hung (as it seems) in
mid-air, watches the valleys like a little cloud; through fields of
snow, by terraces cut in the ice where the sheer rises and drops a
thousand feet either way; so to Emesa, a mountain village huddled in
perpetual shadows; thence down to Baalbek, and by foaming river-gorges
into the sun and sight of the dimpling sea: thus they led the doomed
Italian. He by this time knew the end was coming, and had braced himself
to meet it stolidly.

The towers of Sidon rose chastely white above the violet; they saw the
golden sands rimmed with foam; they saw the ships. Going down a lane,
luxuriant with flowers and scented shrubs, where steep cactus hedges
shut out the furrowed fields and olive gardens, and the cicalas made
hissing music, Giafar ibn Mulk broke the silence of the three men.

'Is it time?' he asked of his brother, without turning his head.

'Not yet,' Cogia replied. The Marquess prayed vehemently, but with shut
lips.

They reached an open moor, where there were rocks covered with cistus
and wild vine. Here the air was very sweet and pure, the sun pleasant.
The Marquess's ass grew frisky, pricked up his ears and brayed. Giafar
ibn Mulk edged up close, and put his arm round t