e curtains, beyond which was a
guarded door. It opened, and on its further side they found
themselves in full sunlight on an unwalled terrace, surrounded by
the mighty gulf into which it was built out. On the right and
left edges of this terrace sat old and bearded men, twelve in
number, their heads bowed humbly and their eyes fixed upon the
ground. These were the dais or councillors.

At the head of the terrace, under an open and beautifully carved
pavilion of wood, stood two gigantic soldiers, having the red
dagger blazoned on their white robes. Between them was a black
cushion, and on the cushion a black heap. At first, staring out
of the bright sunlight at this heap in the shadow, the brethren
wondered what it might be. Then they caught sight of the glitter
of eyes, and knew that the heap was a man who wore a black turban
on his head and a black, bell-shaped robe clasped at the breast
with a red jewel. The weight of the man had sunk him down deep
into the soft cushion, so that there was nothing of him to be
seen save the folds of the bell-shaped cloak, the red jewel, and
the head. He looked like a coiled-up snake; the dark and
glittering eyes also were those of a snake. Of his features, in
the deep shade of the canopy and of the wide black turban, they
could see nothing.

The aspect of this figure was so terrible and inhuman that the
brethren trembled at the sight of him. They were men and he was a
man, but between that huddled, beady-eyed heap and those two tall
Western warriors, clad in their gleaming mail and coloured
cloaks, helm on brow, buckler on arm, and long sword at side, the
contrast was that of death and life.

Chapter Twelve: The Lord of Death

Masouda ran forward and prostrated herself at full length, but
Godwin and Wulf stared at the heap, and the heap stared at them.
Then, at some motion of his chin, Masouda arose and said:

"Strangers, you stand in the presence of the Master, Sinan, Lord
of Death. Kneel, and do homage to the Master."

But the brethren stiffened their backs and would not kneel. They
lifted their hands to their brows in salute, but no more.

Then from between the black turban and the black cloak came a
hollow voice, speaking in Arabic, and saying:

"Are these the men who brought me the lion's skin? Well, what
seek ye, Franks?" They stood silent.

"Dread lord," said Masouda, "these knights are but now come from
England over sea, and do not understand our tongue."

"S