Hard they rode, but the lanes were heavy with fallen
snow and mud beneath, and the way was far, so that
an hour had gone by before Bradwell was left behind,
and the shrine of St. Chad lay but half a mile in
front. Now of a sudden the snow ceased, and a
strong northerly wind springing up, drove the thick
mist before it and left the sky hard and blue behind.
Still riding in this mist, they pressed on to where
the old tower loomed in front of them, then drew rein
and waited.
“What is that?” said Godwin presently,
pointing to a great, dim thing upon the vapour-hidden
sea.
As he spoke a strong gust of wind tore away the last
veils of mist, revealing the red face of the risen
sun, and not a hundred yards away from them—for
the tide was high—the tall masts of a galley
creeping out to sea beneath her banks of oars.
As they stared the wind caught her, and on the main-mast
rose her bellying sail, while a shout of laughter
told them that they themselves were seen. They
shook their swords in the madness of their rage, knowing
well who was aboard that galley; while to the fore
peak ran up the yellow flag of Saladin, streaming there
like gold in the golden sunlight.
Nor was this all, for on the high poop appeared the
tall shape of Rosamund herself, and on one side of
her, clad now in coat of mail and turban, the emir
Hassan, whom they had known as the merchant Georgios,
and on the other, a stout man, also clad in mail,
who at that distance looked like a Christian knight.
Rosamund stretched out her arms towards them.
Then suddenly she sprang forward as though she would
throw herself into the sea, had not Hassan caught
her by the arm and held her back, whilst the other
man who was watching slipped between her and the bulwark.
In his fury and despair Wulf drove his horse into
the water till the waves broke about his middle, and
there, since he could go no further, sat shaking his
sword and shouting:
“Fear not! We follow! we follow!”
in such a voice of thunder, that even through the
wind and across the everwidening space of foam his
words may have reached the ship. At least Rosamund
seemed to hear them, for she tossed up her arms as
though in token.
But Hassan, one hand pressed upon his heart and the
other on his forehead, only bowed thrice in courteous
farewell.
Then the great sail filled, the oars were drawn in,
and the vessel swept away swiftly across the dancing
waves, till at length she vanished, and they could
only see the sunlight playing on the golden banner
of Saladin which floated from her truck.
Many months had gone by since the brethren sat upon
their horses that winter morning, and from the shrine
of St. Peter’s-on-the-Wall, at the mouth of
the Blackwater in Essex, watched with anguished hearts
the galley of Saladin sailing southwards; their love
and cousin, Rosamund, standing a prisoner on the deck.
Having no ship in which to follow her—and
this, indeed, it would have been too late to do—they
thanked those who had come to aid them, and returned
home to Steeple, where they had matters to arrange.
As they went they gathered from this man and that
tidings which made the whole tale clear to them.
