His brother was also sworn to Rosamund, and she in her soul must be sworn to one of them.

Was it not to Wulf, Wulf who was handsomer and more strong than he, to Wulf, the conqueror of Lozelle?
Had Rosamund told Masouda this?
Nay, surely not.
Yet women can read each other's hearts, piercing veils through which no man may see, and perchance Masouda had read the heart of Rosamund.

She stood behind her during the dreadful duel at the gate, and watched her face when Wulf's death seemed sure; she might have heard words that broke in agony from her lips in those moments of torment.
Oh, without doubt it was so, and Masouda had protected Rosamund because she knew that her love was for Wulf and not for him.

The thought was very bitter, and in its pain Godwin groaned aloud, while a fierce jealousy of the brave and handsome knight who slept at his side, dreaming, doubtless, of the fame that he had won and the reward by which it would be crowned, gripped his vitals like the icy hand of death.

Then Godwin remembered the oath that they two had sworn far away in the Priory at Stangate, and the love passing the love of woman which he bore towards this brother, and the duty of a Christian warrior whereto he was vowed, and hiding his face in his pillow he prayed for strength.
It would seem that it came to him--at least, when he lifted his head again the jealousy was gone, and only the great grief remained.