them, though far away as yet, throned upon her hills, stood the
holy city of Jerusalem. There were her walls and towers, and
there, stained red as though with the blood of its worshippers,
soared the great cross upon the mosque of Omar--that cross which
was so soon to fall.

Yes, yonder was the city for which throughout the ages men had
died by tens and hundreds of thousands, and still must die until
the doom was done. Saladin had offered to spare her citizens if
they consented to surrender, but they would not. This embassy had
told him that they had sworn to perish with the holy Places, and
now, looking at it in its splendour, they knew that the hour was
near, and groaned aloud.

Godwin groaned also, but not for Jerusalem. Oh! now the last
terror was upon him. Blackness surged round him, and in the
blackness swords, and a sound as of a woman's voice murmuring his
name. Clutching the pommel of his saddle, he swayed to and fro,
till suddenly the anguish passed. A strange wind seemed to blow
about him and lift his hair; a deep, unearthly peace sank into
his spirit; the world seemed far away and heaven very near.

"It is over," he said to Wulf. "I fear that Rosamund is dead."

"If so, we must make haste to follow her," answered Wulf with a
sob.

Chapter Twenty-One: What Befell Godwin

At the village of Bittir, some seven miles from Jerusalem, the
embassy dismounted to rest, then again they pressed forward down
the valley in the hope of reaching the Zion Gate before the
mid-day heat was upon them. At the end of this valley swelled the
shoulder of a hill whence the eye could command its length, and
on the crest of that shoulder appeared suddenly a man and a
woman, seated on beautiful horses. The company halted, fearing
lest these might herald some attack and that the woman was a man
disguised to deceive them. While they waited thus irresolute, the
pair upon the hill turned their horses' heads, and
notwithstanding its steepness, began to gallop towards them very
swiftly. Wulf looked at them curiously and said to Godwin:

"Now I am put in mind of a certain ride which once we took
outside the walls of Beirut. Almost could I think that yonder
Arab was he who sat behind my saddle, and yonder woman she who
rode with you, and that those two horses were Flame and Smoke
reborn. Note their whirlwind pace, and strength, and stride."

Almost as he finished speaking the strangers pulled up their
steeds in front of the c