o seek?
Another woman, who had risked her life for them all because she
loved him. And if he found her, what then? Must he wed her, and
did he wish this? Nay, he desired no woman on the earth; yet what
was right that he would do. And if he found her not, what then?
Well, at least he would give himself up to Saladin, who must
think ill of them by whom he had dealt well, and tell him that of
this plot they had no knowledge. Indeed, to him he would go
first, if it were but to beg forgiveness for Masouda should she
still be in his hands. Then--for he could not hope to be believed
or pardoned a second time--then let death come, and he would
welcome it, who greatly longed for peace.

It was evening, and Godwin's tired horse stumbled slowly through
the great camp of the Saracens without the walls of fallen
Ascalon. None hindered him, for having been so long a prisoner he
was known by many, while others thought that he was but one of
the surrendered Christian knights. So he came to the great
house where Saladin lodged, and bade the guard take his name to
the Sultan, saying that he craved audience of him. Presently he
was admitted, and found Saladin seated in council among his
ministers.

"Sir Godwin," he said sternly, "seeing how you have dealt by me,
what brings you back into my camp? I gave you brethren your
lives, and you have robbed me of one whom I would not lose."

"We did not rob you, sire," answered Godwin, "who knew nothing of
this plot. Nevertheless, as I was sure that you would think thus,
I am come from Jerusalem, leaving the princess and my brother
there, to tell the truth and to surrender myself to you, that I
may bear in her place any punishment which you think fit to
inflict upon the woman Masouda."

"Why should you bear it?" asked Saladin.

"Because, Sultan," answered Godwin sadly, and with bent head,
"whatever she did, she did for love of me, though without my
knowledge. Tell me, is she still here, or has she fled?"

"She is still here," answered Saladin shortly. "Would you wish to
see her?"

Godwin breathed a sigh of relief. At least, Masouda still lived,
and the terror that had struck him in the night was but an evil
dream born of his own fears and sufferings.

"I do," he answered, "once, if no more. I have words to say to
her."

"Doubtless she will be glad to learn how her plot prospered,"
said Saladin, with a grim smile. "In truth it was well laid and
boldly executed."

Calling to one of h