Here in the portico Rosamund turned her horse, and received the
salutations of the multitude as though she also were one of the
world's rulers. Indeed, it seemed to the brethren watching her as
she sat upon the great white horse and surveyed the shouting,
bending crowd with flashing eyes, splendid in her bearing and
beautiful to see, a prince at her stirrup and an army at her
back, that none of those who had trod that path before her could
have seemed greater or more glorious in the hour of their pride
than did this English girl, who by the whim of Fate had suddenly
been set so high. Truly by blood and nature she was fitted to be
a queen. Yet as Rosamund sat thus the pride passed from her face,
and her eyes fell.

"Of what are you thinking?" asked Godwin at her side.

"That I would we were back among the summer fields at Steeple,"
she answered, "for those who are lifted high fall low. Prince
Hassan, give the captains and people my thanks and bid them be
gone. I would rest."

Thus for the first and last time did Rosamund behold her ancient
fief of Baalbec, which her grandsire, the great Ayoub, had ruled
before her.

That night there was feasting in the mighty, immemorial halls,
and singing and minstrelsy and the dancing of fair women and the
giving of gifts. For Baalbec, where birth and beauty were ever
welcome, did honour to its lady, the favoured niece of the mighty
Salah-ed-din. Yet there were some who murmured that she would
bring no good fortune to the Sultan or this his city, who was not
all of the blood of Ayoub, but half a Frank, and a Cross
worshipper, though even these praised her beauty and her royal
bearing. The brethren they praised also, although these were
unbelievers, and the tale of how Wulf had fought the traitor
knight upon the Narrow Way, and of how they had led their
kinswoman from the haunted fortress of Masyaf, was passed from
mouth to mouth. At dawn the next day, on orders received from
the Sultan, they left Baalbec, escorted by the army and many of
the notables of the town. That afternoon they drew rein upon the
heights which overlook the city of Damascus, Bride of the Earth,
set amidst its seven streams and ringed about with gardens, one
of the most beautiful and perhaps the most ancient city in the
world. Then they rode down to the bounteous plain, and as night
fell, having passed the encircling gardens, were escorted through
the gates of Damascus, outside of which most of the army h