der my words into your tongue. Do you accept them as
interpreters? If not, others must be found."

When they had translated this, the king said that he accepted
them, adding to Godwin:

"Would that I had also accepted you two nights gone as an
interpreter of the will of Heaven!"

The Sultan bade his captains be seated, and seeing their terrible
thirst, commanded slaves to bring a great bowl of sherbet made of
rose-water cooled with snow, and with his own hand gave it to
king Guy. He drank in great gulps, then passed the bowl to
Reginald de Chatillon, whereon Saladin cried out to Godwin:

"Say to the king it is he and not I who gives this man to drink.
There is no bond of salt between me and the prince Arnat."

Godwin translated, sorrowfully enough, and Reginald, who knew the
habits of the Saracens, answered:

"No need to explain, Sir Knight, those words are my
death-warrant. Well, I never expected less."

Then Saladin spoke again.

"Prince Arnat, you strove to take the holy city of Mecca and to
desecrate the tomb of the Prophet, and then I swore to kill you.
Again, when in a time of peace a caravan came from Egypt and
passed by Esh-Shobek, where you were, forgetting your oath, you
fell upon them and slew them. They asked for mercy in the name of
Allah, saying that there was truce between Saracen and Frank. But
you mocked them, telling them to seek aid from Mahomet, in whom
they trusted. Then for the second time I swore to kill you. Yet I
give you one more chance. Will you subscribe the Koran and
embrace the faith of Islam? Or will you die?"

Now the lips of Reginald turned pale, and for a moment he swayed
upon his seat. Then his courage came back to him, and he answered
in a strong voice:

"Sultan, I will have none of your mercy at such a price, nor do I
bow the knee to your dog of a false prophet, who perish in the
faith of Christ, and, being weary of the world, am content to go
to Him."

Saladin sprang to his feet, his very beard bristling with wrath,
and drawing his sabre, shouted aloud:

"You scorn Mahomet! Behold! I avenge Mahomet upon you! Take him
away!" And he struck him with the flat of his scimitar.

Then Mameluks leapt upon the prince. Dragging him to the entrance
of the tent, they forced him to his knees and there beheaded him
in sight of the soldiers and of the other prisoners.

Thus, bravely enough, died Reginald de Chatillon, whom the
Saracens called prince Arnat. In the hush that foll